


Medusa

by tvsn



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Assumptions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Pre-Season/Series 03, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 77,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvsn/pseuds/tvsn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to persuade “Mr. Culper” to accept a plea deal, Major Hewlett finds the truth in the lies that have characterized their interactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I adore this ship, I can’t help but sail it completely off course. If you are looking for beautiful nights beneath the stars, sweet but awkward attempts at flirting, and love as pure as it is complicated, there are tens of better fics on this site alone which I’d be happy to recommend.  
> If, however, you have no particular preference on how you get your Anna / Hewlett fix, don’t worry, there is love here, but also hate, anger, fear and regret (within a plot admittedly influenced by the tropes of my country’s lingering cultural obsession with its divided past.) In general I am so sorry for this story but thusfar it has been fun to write ... so *maybe* fun to read? Eventually?  
> Now that we’ve that sorted, I hope you enjoy.

He pressed an ungloved hand against the garment hanging on a line behind the tavern in the cold February air. The air was damp, the petticoat was not. His eyes danced around quickly before he closed them as he pulled the cloth nearer to his face and inhaled. Salt and sea did little to mask the scent of alcohol and tobacco. He dropped it immediately, his brow wrinkled both from the fact that his hypothesis was proving correct and that his enemy had put so little effort into concealing her misdeeds. Biting his bottom lip, he gloved his right hand again and slowly proceeded to the tavern’s entrance.

The sign read _De Young Tavern_ , though the locals still referred to it by its former name, and likely would for as long as the building itself stood. A bullet hole had destroyed part of the name shield, he guessed, in the skirmish that had taken place in Setauket a few months prior. Below it stood unfinished wood beams which had been hastily erected by his men to cover a wound the building had sustained in an altercation between the Queen’s Rangers and the regular army. It left an ugly scar. Looking on, he briefly considered requesting white paint in his next supply order but recognized instantly that the thought alone was both frivolous and damning.

The first time he had ever had any real contact with Mrs. Strong he was overseeing the confiscation and sale of her jailed husband’s property, which included the tavern, this tavern, where she was now forced to work for meager wages. She had argued the matter until he confessed that the law seemed unjust, though her pleas had done nothing to sway his hand. He often wondered if that had been what pushed her, if he personally, through the lawful execution of his office, had created the monster which he would now be forced to slay or subdue. He questioned all of the decisions that had lead him here, as he stole a glance at her from the window. Anna Strong smiled at her few remaining customers as she topped off their drinks, he face falling as she turned away. He noted that her smile did not match the one she often offered him. Sometimes that smile made it easy to forget that he was losing a war on ten different fronts, and that she was at least partially to blame. It was so easy to lose himself in the illusion that he sometimes wondered if he hadn’t fallen into his own trap. Sometimes he recognized that he had.

He looked away from the window and up into the evening sky. Unlike every other problem he had ever been faced with, they now offered nothing to grant him reprieve. He sometimes wondered if it had been unwise to share this side of himself with her, naturally not from a tactical standpoint – _for what could she possibly do with a shattered dream?_ But now he seemed damned to associate his passion with his mission. Consequently, he had no means of retreat from his thoughts of her. He questioned if he would ever return to being the man he had been before finding himself involved with the messy business of espionage or if the friend he had made under false pretenses would somehow haunt his every step.

_Anna._

The stars seemed to spell out her name. He blinked. This wasn’t the first time they spoke to him in such a way. The thought of her, the whisper of her name, had gotten him through the darkest days of his captivity. Sometimes he had worried for her safety, sometimes he had prayed for her condemnation. Sometimes he had wondered if she had been involved in his capture. But mostly he had imagined her beside him, patiently listening to his long winded explanations of the natural sciences, asking relevant questions and making him feel relevant in turn.

_Edmond._

It wasn’t his given name, but it was the one he had given her. The one Mrs. Strong called him in the private spaces where he could call her Anna, the one that the version of her that he acknowledged must exist only within to confines of his mind would purr before his imagination inevitably took a darker turn. He noted that in the fantasies he invented on the brink of death she never gave the same treatment to his Christian name. Later he would draw various conclusions from this, all of which he would try to push from his thoughts, all of which would resurface when confronted with his various short-comings.

Richard Hewlett recalled the allegorical story of the lies that they were living which he had told her in one such fantasy. He had spoken of the gorgon Medusa, and the hero Perseus who was able to kill her with a mirrored shield. But Richard, within his fantasy, had strayed from the ending offered by Ovid in _Metamorphoses_. He often thought about this fact, in it recognizing all too well that he would never be a hero in the true sense. He considered how long he had been waiting outside in quiet contemplation, and laughed that though he may lack whatever quality he might need to defeat her, Anna Strong truly could turn a man to stone.

 

Two of the remaining customers emerged from the tavern, leaning on each other for support. They were his men, one of whom he had spent the better part of the morning berating for his lack of efficiency. Truth be told, the boy was a better solider than Hewlett himself had ever been, but it wouldn’t be enough should his fears be realized. He had scolded himself internally for his outburst a moment after it happened, and revisited that theme when he saw the effects his words had wrought. He knew that he couldn’t beat Simcoe by becoming him in the process, he knew that he could never emulate his enemy in a way that would inspire men. He knew that everything Simcoe had said to him about the advantages inherent in his madness had been correct, and that when the demon did eventually lash out, Hewlett himself would likely be among the first casualties.

He feared that his long plan of simply hitting Simcoe with another Court Marshall would never be realized.

He could only hope to give his men and this town as much protection as possible. Hewlett had recently lost two of his already limited soldiers, one to Simcoe, who could sense weakness in others and exploit it on instinct, and one, he assumed, to the rebels, shot from his horse. Yet another messenger whom he had sent earlier that morning had not returned, and Hewlett wondered if he might have been captured as well.

_As his former spy had been._

He felt the bundle of documents he had concealed in his jacket. A ransom note was among them. How could he possibly return to Whitehall without having done everything he could to return young Abraham to his family? This stiffened his resolve, if only ever so slightly.

“Major!” One of the soldiers said, standing ready upon seeing his commanding officer and letting his comrade practically fall in the process. Hewlett caught the boy suffering from self-inflicted nausea and helped him steady his balance.

“At ease,” he said, while the two struggled to formulate an excuse. “That’s, ah, rather, I am willing to forget this incident provided it not become habitual.”

He didn’t want to let them know how afraid he was for their well-being. He wanted to make sure that all of his men were at a heightened alert for their own protection, not to mention that of the town where they were posted, even when off duty. But how could he possibly impress upon them the need for a sustained readiness state without creating panic? If they were consumed by the same fear that ate at him the village would be lost within an hour, with or without the assistance of a rebel battalion or a coup.

“Sir”, the young solider replied.

Hewlett wondered who he would write if the ensign were to meet his fate. He hoped the boy had a family which was far away in England, he hoped it did not include a wife and child who were reliant of his income. Since learning of Abe’s unlucky imprisonment upon his return to Whitehall weeks before, Hewlett transcribed the features of Mary and Thomas Woodhull to the absent wives and children of all of the men he was leading. He remembered Mary’s tears, too often shed due to his own incompetence as a handler.

He studied the boy for a moment, offering him another small condolence. “It’s alright, truly. It was a long day for all of us.”

Truly, it had been.

After unsuccessfully running drills with his troops in the morning, Hewlett sat down in the afternoon to tackle the always unpleasant business of informing a fallen soldier’s loved ones of their untimely passing. He had been in the middle of writing a letter to the first messenger’s widow when he received an unsigned ransom note for Abe’s release. Hewlett suspected that the two had formed a friendship during their travels to York City. Maybe that explained why Abe had attached himself to his former bodyguard as he rode to see the mission to completion. For all of his failings as a spy, Abe had been dedicated to the cause, eager to show that he was willing to make amends for the missteps of his youth. It was something Hewlett admired very much about him. Well, had admired. Now it was growing tiresome.

Now he was captured and Hewlett was forced to use his last best shot to secure a release.

He hated Abe for his recklessness, Abe’s wife Mary for her tears, and Abe’s father Richard, who doubled as Hewlett’s civilian liaison, for his calculated indifference towards the whole affair.

But what he wouldn’t have traded to be able to feign the same lack of concern.

He faked a smile instead and saw his two men off. He heard them talking as they left.

<< It is curious to see the major without a guard these days, but not at all so to see him around Mrs. Strong. >>

Hewlett found it a little disquieting that his subordinates seemed to respect him more for his proximity to a beer wench. He felt pride in that his little ruse had proven so effective - even the Woodhulls seemed convinced that he had impure intentions towards the woman. He felt a little sick that everyone in Setauket seemed so willing to believe the worst of him, and there was a bit of self-loathing in admitting that if things had turned out even slightly different, they might have all been correct in their evaluations.

The remaining three men who had been drinking in the tavern excited, all of them townsfolk, to Hewlett’s great relief.

“G’evening, Major!” a red faced man, whose name failed Hewlett at the moment, greeted. “Says she’s closing shop early, you wouldn’t be the reason behind that now?”

“I’ve not issued a curfew, if that-“ He was cut off by a round of laughter. One of the other men told him next time he saw him at the tavern he would buy him a round. Hewlett walked with them a few paces for his own cover, expressing disappointment with them of having to go home without first getting his fill. In truth that was exactly how he would rather be spending the evening. Not at Whitehall of course, but in a barn with half a bottle of brandy and men too drunk to remember to treat him with deference. Instead he waved goodbye, went back to De Young Tavern with the civilians out of sight, and opened the door.

He was resolved to expose Mrs. Strong for the rebel spy he knew her to be, to force a confession in exchange for a bargain, one which he was in no way qualified to offer. Even if everything worked in his favor, he knew that there was no real guarantee that her expertise could be used to rid Setauket of the hell which consumed it, especially now that circumstance was forcing his hand. Though he never planned on it ending this way, he was exhausted, and there was some measure of relief in that this would all end tonight. But when she turned around to tell him that she was closing, Richard Hewlett would have given anything to spend one more evening with _Anna_ as _Edmond_.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hewlett tries to work out his feelings with relation to Mrs. Strong as he gathers up the courage to say what he means to.

Major Hewlett had never before conceded that some element of truth may lie in astrology. Tonight, he was giving the idea that the planets may have aligned against him some honest contemplation. Perhaps his deceit had been an affront to the Almighty, perhaps this was divine retribution for having used a church as a stable, or for any of the other sins he’d committed since his arrival in the new world. The drink Martin De Young sold as beer was enough to shatter one’s soul. At least he wasn’t being made to pay for it. He watched Mrs. Strong, averting his eyes when she glanced his way, her plump lips always tightening into a perfect smile when she managed to catch them. She would ask him if he needed anything, before apologizing that inventory was taking so long. He understood the task and began to offer antidotes about Captain Wakefield and his misadventures with the Setauket Arsenal before trailing off incoherently when he realized how moronic that was of him on every conceivable level. He could, of course, have committed his lips to the glass of lukewarm, watered down ale on the table in front of him, but one sip had proven equal to all the hardships he’d ever suffered in war. He wondered how something so weak could have left such an awful, lingering after-taste, and considered briefly that he was being poisoned.

“Come now, Edmond, it can’t possibly be that wretched,” she laughed when she noticed his face. “I’ve sold 17 pitchers today.”

_Edmond._ She’d unknowingly twisted a knife, reminding him of the lies he’d told to be sitting there after closing. He winced, awaiting her reactions to a topic he’d yet to broach.

“Is that quite a lot?”

“It is when you consider that even in the best of times Tuesdays are slow, the war has taken its toll on our permanent population, winter has been cruel, prices have gone up, and to make up for all this the owner has cut our hours of operation in half. Still,” she paused, “I would have been happy with the take were it still mine.”

Her words were made worse by the lack of emotion behind them.

_Were it still mine._

How was he meant to respond? They had never discussed her current employment situation. How much of the blame did he bear in her eyes? Should he apologise? Would he even be able to do so with any level of sincerity? _And why, for the love of God, did he care?_

“Anna, I am not sure this would be considered-“

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to the glass.

“Please.”

She gaged as she swallowed. “Your men must be forged from steel, Major!”

“How much did they drink?” he asked, simultaneously curious and concerned. He had been staring down the glass for the better part of an hour and had thus far managed exactly two sips.

“More than a glass, less than a pitcher. Still, I find that if this brew were singularly on offer here in the colonies, the two armies would sue for peace before winter let out, before then end of a proper drinking session.” she laughed and shook her head as she took the beer from the table and wiped up the ring left over from where it had been standing. “I beg your pardon for that round, is there something else I can offer you?” she asked, but the Major was no longer listening.

Two armies. Kind, cordial Anna Strong really had a way with back-handed insults. To even imply that those terrorists hiding in the trees were on par with any member of the royal force was blasphemous, no matter what her political leanings may be. Hewlett sometimes awoke in his warm bed in the middle of the night shaking from his memories of his cold December cage. His foot would throb where his toes once were and he would question if this was part of the healing process or if infection was setting in. He knew it to be neither. He had seen this kind of thing before in other soldiers which only made things seem worse. Sometimes he would lie awake for hours, staring at his canopy, without a single thought going through his mind. Sometimes every nightmare scenario became temporarily real. In those cases, he would calm himself down by whispering her name over and over again until its melodic sound became something of a lullaby.

_Anna._ His only real friend. If only for minutes longer.

“Edmond?” Hewlett smiled. “Ah- now it is I who must ask for pardon. I was lost to my thoughts for a moment. What did you ask?”

“What were you thinking?”

“Ah, yes, well, the tactics you described, it reminded me of Tacitus´s Germania.” He lied. Again. Seeing her confusion, he added, “Evidently, the Saxons would desert the battlefield if they found that there was no alcohol to be had in the disputed territory. I’ve an English translation if you are interested, fascinating read.”

“Ought I to cut them off completely then?”

“To spare them a hardship or to force them into a retreat?”

“The former, of course.”

“Hm. My soldiers? No, they know their limits, or, rather, will find them rather quickly in this. You can drown the Rangers in it if you so choose.” She smiled at that.

“But rebels, spies...” He lingered on the last word, meeting her eyes. They seemed to grow, but she was able to dodge the conversation he was so longing to have with a quick toast to the King’s health with the beer he’d been attempting, still in her hand. Unfortunately, he was now obligated to take a sip himself. He took the glass back from her, and offered up something he’d hoped would pass for a smile. “Long live the King.”

She put up her hand, blocking the glass from reaching his mouth. Her fingers graced his lips and he could feel his face growing red with surprise. Her expression mimicked his own as she retracted her hand, “Forgive me, Major Hewlett, I only meant to offer you something more to your liking. I’ve only to lock my till in the cellar, and I can return with a glass of,” she squinted, guessing “whiskey? Port?”

“Ah, that’s quite kind. Though, I am not actually here for a drink. I, that is, I was rather hoping to discuss something with you before retiring for the evening.”

“Of course, what can I-“

“On second thought, it might be better if you could procure a bottle of something for us. Whatever you like.” _Whatever will make you talk._

She blushed again. He grew even more nervous, not thinking it possible seconds before.

“A bottle.” she repeated. “Give me a moment.” She discarded the half empty beer glass. Walking towards the door, she grabbed her cloak.

“Anna! Please, I recognise that my request may have come off as an intrusion but the last thing I want is to frighten you off.” He questioned if _bottle_ was a code he had yet to decipher, or if he was simply being too forward in his request.

Anna looked down at the bundle in her hands, and then back up at Hewlett. She re-joined him at the table. “Oh, no, no! I was only looking for my purse. This is rather embarrassing to confess, but I now have to pay when I want to offer my friends-”

“Nonsense. I ought to excuse myself, having spoken in such a manner as to imply that I expected you to,” he paused in thought, “but you would have, wouldn’t you?” _How could such a sweet, wonderful person even be capable of something as dirty as espionage? Ah, Anna. Why, why, WHY did it have to be you?_ Her generosity at this moment was torcher unto itself.

“I am not sure I follow. What exactly are you asking?”

“You would have given all your last day’s wages to buy me a drink which I only half want?” _Which I in no way deserve._

“To be fair, you would have to pay a 20 percent mark-up, and this is really only a small token compared with all that you have done for me.”

“I feel ashamed, more than you can possibly realise.” He reached for his own purse, “You needn’t think of doing anything in reciprocation. The pleasure of your company has always been enough, it’s only, forgive me Anna.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“I’ve not exactly said what I’ve come to, I recognize that to that end I am being rather inarticulate, which seems so often to be the case.” He shook his head.

“I’ve never minded, you know.”

“Ah, yes well…”

“Major, it is fine, I understand completely. You needn’t feel uncomfortable. In truth I’ve long predicted that this day would come. I’ll send for my belongings in the morning.”

For a moment he allowed himself to hope that Anna had been onto his wile all along, that he could extract the information he needed without the necessity of a confession, and they could continue the play they had been staging for months without an off-script word ever being uttered. But

_I’ll send for my belongings in the morning._

He either had her fooled or she refused to make this easy. Either way, he feared that he would end up alone. It was the same kind of fear he felt when he awoke it a cold sweat. The same kind that swallowed him when he was consciously trying to convince everyone that imprisonment had left no lingering effects on his being. No. He was better than this. Somehow he would find the right words. Somehow he would save her from her other life.

“I fear we may be discussing separate topics.” he tried to continue.

She raised a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. “Edmond, pardon me my misunderstanding, you have been speaking all evening as though you intended to end our friendship. You’ve recoiled when I’ve called you by your Christian name, you’ve seemed so distant, and I am sure it is a mark of vanity but I confess I blamed myself. Working here, I hear all of the rumours that are spread about me. Blows to my reputation have become something of a routine, but, where they involve you I, I am deeply sorry. You are a kind, decent man, and should not have to suffer-”

“Anna, stop, please. Please. In that regard, I fear I am as much to blame as you, which is to say, not at all. I do have something that I _must_ confess to you and I wish there was a way that I could entirely separate it from the context of our friendship, but it is, well you see, rather intertwined.”

Her eyes grew wide. Expectant. Hopeful? He realized that he had again misspoke. Or perhaps not. He noted irony in that the table where he was now seated was the table where their friendship began.

“Maybe it would be better if you were to just get us that drink.”

He held out a few coins but she held up her hands. Ordinarily he would have never accepted such a gesture, but there was no real point in arguing. After all, would she even be in a position to spend the money he wished to save her come morning? One could only hope.

He nodded as a means of acknowledging his defeat. After returning her wages to the till, Anna ran off into the storage room.

At least this would give him time to think of what to say. Despite his commitment, his mind wandered to the conversation Anna no doubt expected to have upon her return. He wondered how it played out in her head. She wasn’t the whore she had so often been portrayed as. No. She was provably downstairs trying to think of the kindest way to let him down. He could see why people assumed he was in love with her. He, in turn, assumed most people in the village would find that they were just as infatuated with Mrs. Strong if they would allow themselves a moment of self-scrutiny. Hewlett blamed his entire manner for the various misunderstandings. He was so clumsy with his words, never sure of what to say, always positive that he would get it wrong. Even now. Even now, knowing that he had the upper hand; he was fighting on the side of the righteous, and that she – she wasn’t the girl she convinced everyone she was. She was a villain, not a victim.

And most certainly _not_ a love interest, no matter how many words he tripped over when he was in her presence.

And yet, if any part of her was genuine, he would have been a fool _not_ to fall for her.

He tried to release himself from that realization. He remembered all of his half dozen failed proposals to girls back in England, imagining having the same type of conversation now with Anna. Blessedly, he had avoided ever taking rejection personally. In his youth, he had never had any real interest in girls who, for their part, all seemed to find him equally as dull. In his twenties, he didn’t have the financial stability to provide a woman with any life worth living, having to pay off his father’s debts and support his mother and sisters. He realized in his thirties that he would never grow into his features which women never seemed to fancy and that despite all his varied cultural undertakings he still lacked any real talent in conversation or correspondence. And now he was simply too old to allow the thought of spending his life as a bachelor to bother him. He was used to being alone, he didn’t mind it. He never had. But then there was Anna Strong, who by some great miracle found him interesting, scholarly. Who was likely lying about those things as well, he reminded himself. He wondered what would have been comparatively harder, the rejection of the imagined Anna, or the confrontation he meant to have with the real one.

_Fool!_ What was he thinking, _why was it proving so impossible to let go of a fantasy?_ Even if she were not a spy, she was married, and adultery was most certainly _not_ his sin.

 

Anna returned with a bottle of red wine. Hewlett still had absolutely no idea of how to proceed.

“This tastes French.”

“I assure you, it was legally procured, even if through questionable channels of commerce. If you must think about it, this could have otherwise gone to the continentals.”

“It still is though, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No, I think you do.” This time he was not at all coy.

For the first time in months the silence that followed grew tense.

“Anna, do you remember, the first time we sat here together. In this tavern, at this table, when I asked you to accompany me to Mary Woodhull’s dinner party?”

“I’ll never forget.”

“I think, I think that I should disclose to you the events that led up to that.”

“You told me then. Abe mentioned to you his admiration for my escape from the rebels and you thought it ought to be rewarded.”

“Ah, yes, I – I did say something to that nature at the time. If Abe is still … I really do owe him an apology.”

_Right. Leave it to Richard Hewlett to ask a pretty girl to a party by dropping the name of another man. Even when he was only approaching her with the slim hope that she may have once known someone who may have information which might help him salvage his career. Idiot._

“The truth is,” he reached into the breast pocket on the inside of his uniform, took out a bundle of papers and started shifting through them, “I was under orders, and simply hoped that you would be a good place to start.” He handed her a letter he had received from John Andre.

She scanned the letter. “Forgive me, I am not quite sure what it is I am reading.”

“Take your time.”

She stared hard at him before returning her eyes to the paper where they lingered only for a moment before she reached for his hand. He took hers, trying as discreetly as possible to position his fingers as to take her pulse.

One … Two …

“Edmond, I am not entirely sure why you are showing me this, but for what little my opinion might be worth on these matters, I wouldn’t upset myself over it. This is several months old, nearly a year-“

“Thank you, Anna, that’s quite kind. But I fear the evaluation was rather accurate and the information it contains still relevant.”

 

To the honourable Major R. Hewlett,

It is with great sorrow that I learned of the attempt on the life of you liaison Judge Woodhull, carried out by the hand of his once friend, the Rev. N. Tallmadge. Friendship is after all so often the first casualty of war. Not that you read this in a menacing tone, for it is in the spirit of the friendship that we share that I wish to advise you against begging further assistance from the admiral at this time. He mentioned that he found your actions in holding the ceasefire inexcusable after you forced him into making numerous financial and strategic sacrifices in coordinating a battle which never took place due to your weakness in character, to quote. It has come to my further intelligence that should you continue to request supplies without being able to justify their use from a tactical standpoint, His Majesty’s Army would find more use for you elsewhere. The very fact that you were unable to secure the powder stocked in the Setauket Arsenal from an attack of, refresh me - 20 rebels! - with a garrison of some of the best soldiers in the new world at your disposal ought to have landed you a CM. You should not await a swift restock.

“Edmond, forgive me but may I be completely honest with you?”

“Always.” He said a little too fast, too earnest. “Ah - That is to say, rather, I would hope that you feel you can be. Honest. With me.” Anna’s pulse was still normal, Hewlett knew without needing to check it that his heart was racing.

She gave him a brief encouraging smile but it quickly faded to match the stern look in her eyes. “I don’t know why you do this to yourself. You’re a fine major and a great man. I don’t pretend to know if your superiors persist in holding you in contempt but you acted with more honour and restraint than anyone could have expected of themselves on that day. Everyday. You always do that. And your men love you for it. And Setauket respects you, and I, I don’t believe that you give yourself enough credit. Yes, these are trying times, yes-“

“Anna, stop! Please. Were that but marginally honest.” He closed his eyes again. “It wasn’t my intention to bark at you. Your words were kind, as always, but that’s all they are.”

“Are you accusing me of lying? Edmond, what’s happened? Surely you’re not this upset over an eight month old review. Is it related to Simcoe? Have you heard something?” She was eyeing the stack of papers he’d brought along.

OneTwoOneTwo

She was as afraid of the demon as he was. Poor thing.

“No, no. Nothing on that front.” He studied her, she seemed relieved. “It’s, well, what I had really wanted to discuss with you, it is in relation to Abe.”

She tensed. Her heart was pounding. This was it. He had her. He would get her to tell him where his housemate was being held and they could return, well, Abe could return to Whitehall. Hewlett would need to sort out what to do about Mrs. Strong. Something that would be infinitely easier to accomplish if he didn’t hear a confession.

“Anna, you – God. Please, you needn’t confess to anything but you have to tell me if there is any hope -”

She retracted her hand. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with our entire history, we were engaged once, he married Mary after his elder brother Thomas died and he realized that the promises his father made to her parents were more important to him personally than any promise he’d ever made to me. I married Selah shortly thereafter and we went our separate ways. He had a debt to my husband but that was it. When Abe took me to York City in order that we might retrieve my husband when he was to be released from prison, when I was given instead his death certificate, falsified but apparently legally standing and preventing me from divorce… We kissed then, Abe and I, more out of catharsis than anything else. I see that now. And a few weeks later, we, well, I believe Ensign Baker filed a report with you to that time. I regret having allowed it to happen, but it’s over, no matter what Richard Woodhull may think.” She paused, and meeting his eyes added “You’ve no grounds to … worry.”

Putting aside the various parallels he instantly saw between her story and the myth he was often remind of in her presence, Hewlett asked himself; _Is she stalling? Is she simply comfortable enough to openly disclose such information? Why would I be threatened by – oh. Does Anna have similar feelings about –me-? No, no, no, no, of course not. And even if, it would be wrong to exploit them. It would be worse to enjoy them. Even in a dream._

“I really might have phrased that differently. Anna, Abe has been kidnapped.”

“What?” she jumped up, “By whom?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping that you would be willing to help me.”

There was a sudden silence. She sat back down without taking her eyes off of him.

“What can I do? You must know that there are few lengths which I wouldn’t go to in order to help my friends.”

“I do,” he stared at her in silence for a moment, taking in her beauty for what he was partially convinced would be his last chance to do so, “I wish that you counted me among them. I wish I deserved to be.”

“I don't understand where this is coming from. What is-”

He produced a cypher from the bundle. “The truth is, I’ve been on to your little operation for quite some time. But it needs to end. You need to tell me where Abe is. That’s it. That’s all I’ve to offer.” _I would have given you the world._

“I have, _honestly_ , no idea where Abe is. If I did do you really think we’d still be sitting here dancing in verbal circles?” she grew defensive, “Major, I am not sure what it is your trying to accuse me of, kidnapping, adultery? I am not offended, but your accusations are unwarranted and I think you know that you're grasping. You _are_ my friend, and I would do anything within my power to help you. But you need to relax. Abe is often gone without warning or explanation for days at a time.”

“Yes, that’s also…something for which...” He was playing with the cypher in his hands, unable to look her in the eyes.

“What is it?”

He handed it over and asked if she knew how to use it, without answering, she placed it to the letter which still stood in front of her and met his eyes after reading what was revelaed.

“Major Tallmadge coordinating intelligence from Setauket” he recited. He did so in his sleep.

Anna didn’t blink. She gasped. Maybe he’d get the confession he decided weeks ago that he never wished to hear. “Take your time, Mr. Culper. Or, would you rather that I continue where I left off?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this was a transitional chapter which I didn’t necessarily need to write, but I wanted to get a few minutes of Hewlett’s weird little “friendship” with Anna in before I let him fire the cannons.  
> Next time we’ll start getting into all the Stasi-esque plot stuff (I promise!), and we will get to see it unfold from Anna’s badass POV.   
> Just as a quick aside: This may be painfully obvious to everyone reading, but I have few opportunities to write in the English language. Linguee.com, Dictionary.com, and the various other tabs I always seem to have open can go but so far. Please, please, please don’t be at all shy if you see an error (prepositions, tense, constructions that no one would ever actually use, general grammar/syntax, etc.). It might be easier to pretend that I am revising while writing this if I actually learn something in the process.   
> (Oh, and to that end, I’ve already figured out that Ben would be coordinating intelligence through and not from Setauket, but coded messages are tricky.)  
> Anyway, thank you all so much for reading! All my best until we meet again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna responds to the charges being brought against her and drops a bomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight language warning for this chapter.

“Mister … Culper.” Anna repeated, grasping for control of the reality which had begun to set in.

_Edmond…Major Hewlett. Major Hewlett knows about the ring. He knows that Ben and I are associated with it. And Abigail? Caleb? Townsend? Not Abe. Thank God not Abe._

She tried to control her breathing. She felt her heart in her throat. She felt as if she were suffocating. Her spine grew ridged and her face was paralyzed in a blank stare. _No. This was NOT how she was going down._

“Forgive me, Major. I need a moment to recover.” She searched for a way out. “I, I can’t believe something so dreadful could be happening in Setauket.” She felt herself pulling at a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun. The more she tried to stop the more addictive the action became. She glimpsed her reflection in the candle-lit window against the night’s darkness before turning back to her interrogator, an unruly lock still pinched between her fingers.

Unlike Anna, Major Hewlett never looked disheveled. In a losing battle he’d kept his patience, elegance and composure. Hours after returning from captivity, he’d shown up to play the role of her protector with defiant equanimity. It was how he held himself now, becoming his uniform as much as it became him. For the first time, Anna saw how frightening that could be.

“Anna…don’t, please. Let us not go through this.” There was a sadness in his eyes that matched his tone, but, as Anna had already noted, nothing else about his person. “I’ve been, how to put this, observing you for quite some time now. I know what you are up to. I know that I am your best chance of liberation. I want to help you get out of this situation, but you need to help me as well. Tell me what you know about Abe’s sudden disappearance, and I will forget that Mr. Culper ever existed.”

“Who is Mister Culper?” she asked, both longing for the major to explain himself and dreading his answer. She was sure that Abe would come crawling back to Whitehall in a day or two. It wasn’t out of his nature to disappear without word or warning, and return without explanation or apology. He had been this way long before the ring, before the war, before the advent of adulthood had made his boyish arrogance seem more obnoxious than charming. Anna considered the irony that the only person who still seemed to fall victim to Abe’s little tantrums was the man he’d asked her to help kill only days ago.

The major responded to her question with a dead stare. She swallowed, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. She eyed the stack of papers he had laid out beside him, wondering what evidence he had gathered against her, wondering who else was implicated.

_The cause is more important than me._

She looked back to Edmond and thought carefully about his words.

<< I want to help you get out of this situation. >>

If he thought she was looking for a way out, maybe he didn’t know the extent of her involvement.

Finally Major Hewlett broke the silence. “After getting this report” he gestured to the document in front of her, “I was eager for redemption. I know what they call me within the central command, and, I’m sorry,” he added quickly, “I realize this is of very little immediate interest to you.” The Major averted his eyes, and gazing at the table, supporting his head with both hands, continued, “I know that you know there were rumors about your politics at the time in question. I had never paid them much heed, as you know that I believe as the Bible states that a child should not be punished for the sins of the father-“

“Do. Not.” Anna hissed. She was quite capable of self-control, except when she found that her father’s politics were being manipulated against her, or being used as a means of excusing her behavior. She was her own woman, she made her own choices and she would not have her actions or beliefs be attributed to the supposed ideals anyone else. It had been a small, off-hand comment, but it had been crafted almost as if it had been specifically designed to hurt her. He had said something similar to her before, but with empathy, not acid. She knew instantly that she should not have barked back. She knew that the best course of action would be to be to summon the kind, brave, encouraging version of herself which she had long thought dead before getting to know Edmond Hewlett. But now the very same man seemed dead set on bringing out the worst of her. And yet, nothing about him seemed particularly different. He was still shyly dancing around topics before making unexpectedly firm assertions. He was still breaking off eye contact before holding her gaze for far too long. She’d loathed it at first, but it had grown on her. She had grown considerably fond of him, more so than she could ever confess. It had seemed as if she could keep the façade of genuine friendship with a British officer up forever.

Façade? No.

Even if Anna had accepted his offer of friendship under false and selfish pretenses; she recognized that had long ceased to be the case. At least for her. He may have been _the_ enemy but he was not _her_ enemy.

_Except._

She knew that she had to stop thinking of him in that context. She had to be brave, to find out what he knew and find a way to forge the best possible outcome from it.

_As long as the cause survives._

“Quite right. Forgive my wording, Anna, it wasn’t my intent to insult your father’s memory.” There was another exaggerated pause. Everything within her told Anna to use the opportunity to bolt. But she was _not_ a coward. _Let no man say that William Smith’s daughter runs from her accusers._

He met her eyes again. Searching. She hoped they would not betray her.

“After the battle, after you so bravely swam to shore. Well, I-” Silence. Again, silence! Did he honestly expect her to pick up on his thoughts? To find a diplomatic way to finish his sentences? _So much for playing the fucking gentleman._ Sometimes it was difficult to be frustrated with the major, sometimes he made it almost comically easy.

“You were the only person who stayed behind who I could even think to question about the existence of, well, treason. It was nothing you had said or done personally, I always found you rather amiable.”

_Was that really the adjective he was going to follow a noun like treason with?_

“Ah, from the Latin root, ami-”

“Friendly.”

“Ah -yes of course, I never meant to insult your intellect, Anna. You should know that I hold you in extremely high regard.”

She snorted. “Is that so?” She knew deep down that she might have been hurting her cause of self-preservation by coming across as so agitated, but could anyone really expect themselves to be _amiable_ when being interrogated and demeaned by someone who kept insisting on simultaneously trying to comfort and compliment? She was still struggling to accept that the night had taken such a turn. Edmond Hewlett, the man who so often seemed on the verge of verbalizing the dreams she denied herself when she realized her absent mind had led her down such a dangerous path was, with an air of calculated nonchalance, giving voice to a nightmare. In her heart she knew that the kind, bashful stargazer whom she knew in private settings was still the officer holding her town hostage. She knew that, but, she realized in horror, it was something she’d willingly forgotten or ignored all the time.

“As I perhaps alluded, it has been rather difficult for me to, I didn’t simply assume that you had any connection to the rebels, only that you may have known, maybe even subconsciously, of something that could lead me to anything, anything at all that I could report. I would never have presumed to ask you so directly.”

_No, that’s really not your forte._

“And I, well I figured that you would never accept an invitation if you thought it came from me, so I lead you to believe otherwise. It was the only lie I ever expected that I would tell you, especially after that evening. You were so lovely, captivating, intelligent, kind … and this in spite of all that you had been though in the months prior. I admired you instantly, I admire you still. And I was absolutely convinced that you had no part in whatever Major Andre imagined was happening in Setauket.”

“And yet now you seem to be accusing me of being a friendly traitor.”

“No. Well…that is to say, I suppose I am just trying to offer you a way to redeem yourself.”

“Redeem myself, Major?”

“Indeed.”

“Of what exactly?”

“Must we really go through this?” He asked as if it were a chore.

“I have every right to know the charges that are being brought against me.”

He didn’t answer her immediately or directly. Maybe he was finding it difficult to say? Maybe he wanted her to speak because he was bluffing? He had to be, at least to an extent.

“After you left, it was rather late in the evening, young Abraham came to me and confessed that he had had a prior connection to,” he leaned in, whispering despite the fact that they were the only two people in the building, “The Sons of Liberty.”

Anna tried to look surprised.

“I had a difficult time believing it as well at first, but he was willing to offer information, and, as I know that you are by now aware, to spy for me in order to make amends. He was able to bring back truly valuable intelligence, but at what cost? I ought not to have ever agreed to his plan. But there it is. I have to own my mistakes.”

“By trying to repeat them? I have no such connections which you can exploit.” She wasn’t lying. If they had had this conversation a week ago Anna would have still held some credibility within the ring. If they had had this conversation a week ago, she realized, the major would be dead.

Hewlett bit his bottom lip. He looked as if he was considering her words before he continued. “I assumed after making a deal with Abe, that had there been any illicit activity of the sort happening in my jurisdiction, the problem had sorted itself out and there was no need for further action. I reported what I knew and the actions I had taken, my direct superiors were pleased.”

“What does any of this have to do with me, Major?”

“It would have ended there, if my duties did not include organizing the post.”

This caught her off guard. She took a sip on wine. It was meant to seem indifferent, but when she put her glass down she realized that she had drunken the half of it. He stared at her and her half empty glass and offered a smile she saw was forced. He could never convincingly pull off such a feat with his ridiculously wide lips. At least there was some solace to be found in the fact that he was at least as uncomfortable as she was.

“May I continue?”

“Please.”

“Your salve” he started.

_Fuck. He must know about Abigail as well. But…that might actually work out to the benefit of the cause._

“My former salve.” She corrected. “The crown does not permit me such possessions anymore.”

“Ah, yes, I, former slave. Former ward, actually. The boy you cared for until Andre requested him as part of his household.”

“Cicero?”

“Oh, was that his name? For the Roman Orator?”

“I believe so?” Maybe she could coax Hewlett into one of his long-winded histories which would give her time to strategize. She quickly realized to her dismay that he wasn’t going to let her take advantage of what was likely his own stalling tactic as he continued. “Yes, Cicero would receive all sorts of strange packages. Sometimes one after another, sometimes nothing for months on end. I didn’t question it at first, why would I, it gave me an excuse to see you, and sometimes you would come to see me. Always sending peculiar items, gifts a child could not make and a woman would not otherwise want or need. At first it only seemed to shine evidence on your own goodly nature. Until I stopped to think about it. I am not certain at what point it dawned on me that Andre’s slave couldn’t possibly have been sending so many gifts, but when it did I started to see a pattern in how you would react after accepting a parcel. The day after receiving a package for _Cicero_ ” he sounded skeptic, “you would do laundry and hang it, even in unsuitable weather. Sometimes I questioned if you were washing them at all, sometimes I even checked.”

_Okay. So he has no idea about Abby._

“And a day or so after that, you would take an afternoon off, and if and when I looked for you, no one could account for your whereabouts. So one day I simply followed you. You placed a page from an old poetry book inside a small metal box by a tree and left. I must have spent the whole afternoon standing there afterwards trying to figure out its encryption."

“Forgive me, but the conclusion you jumped to from that was that I was somehow involved in treason? In smuggling intelligence through messages hidden in poems? Ask anyone, literally anyone in Setauket, I am sure they will give you an explanation that involves me accepting gifts from and then meeting a secret lover.”

“laedit te quaedam mala fabula, qua tibi fertur / valle sub alarum trux habitare caper.” He laughed.

_Was he openly mocking her now?_

“Pardon?”

“The poem, the one you left, speaks of a rumor in regards to a wild goat living in the arm pit of some poor chap. Alas, I will be the first to admit to my own inexperience when it comes to romantic love, but were I to quote Catullus to someone I had an interest it, I would go with 5, 7 perhaps. One of the early Lesbia hendecasyllables to be sure.”

Anna never really paid much attention to the paper she used when writing a coded message to Caleb. She claimed absolutely no talent in dead languages, but maybe that was all the major had going for him. If so, was this merely speculation? She could spin this.

“Eleven syllables.”

“You need to stop doing that.”

“I…that is, you looked confused.”

“I am. Okay, you discovered my weakness when it comes to sight translations of republican era poetry. What could that possibly have to do with Major Andre? Or Abe? Or this Mr. Culper? Or is your intention here simply to frighten me with wild speculations so that I might confess to – what exactly?”

“No! Anna you misunderstand me completely. I do not want you to admit to anything. You can’t confess. You mustn’t. It is far easier to turn a blind eye than ignore a guilty plea, if it ever came out –ever- that you gave me a confession and I ignored it - we would both hang, and you must understand, I have to prevent that. I want, I need you to tell me where the rebels are holding Abe. That’s it. We can end this right now.”

<< And I ignored it. >>

Anna had chosen to be in this situation. She had chosen to do her part in the fight for freedom and liberty, whereas the poor, maladroit oyster-major just seemed trapped on the outskirts of some reality he wished no part of. Maybe she could still pull him back from the edge. Maybe if by helping him see that she truly was innocent of having Abe abducted - _really, of all things!_ \- Major Hewlett would forget all of the other activities which he accused her, albeit correctly, of being involved in. They could laugh about tonight, uncomfortably, until it was forgotten. She had to work towards this end, as much for his sake as for hers.

“Again, I have no idea as to Abe’s whereabouts. You think he would tell me? Maybe this has slipped your evidently watchful eye but the two of us haven’t exactly been on the best terms since his release.”

“No, that hasn’t escaped me at all. That’s exactly why I am questioning you now. But Anna, you can’t hold whatever grudge you have against this man forever. Someday you will wake up and realize what a horrible mistake you’ve made and you will never be able to forgive yourself for it. I don’t want that for you.”

She wondered what mistakes Major Hewlett regretted.

“Major! You don’t get it do you, it is impossible for me to disclose information which I simply don’t have, and while I admit my actions may have seemed strange, I never noticed a pattern in them before. Maybe it was because Abigail and I used to do the laundry together that when I was reminded of her I would think to do it the next day. You don’t know her as I do, but she truly is one of the most loving mothers, and the fact that she and her son routinely send each other small tokens to show their continued affection comes as no surprise. Certainly that should not warrant you to sit across from me with accusations of multiple heinous crimes. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to be forced to endure such treatment at the hands of one of my dearest friends.”

If her impromptu explanation registered with the major at all, he showed no signs of it. He was staring at her, wearing the same facial expression he often wore to work. She wondered if he often looked at her this way, calculating, without necessarily being cold. She wondered how often she had mistaken it for affection. Anna began to consider that she would not find an exit.

“To return to the question you so adamantly keep asking, I hold no grudge against Abe. Yes, we have a sorted history, but I assure you I do not, and have never, wished that man any ill will.”

“Even after he was imprisoned for espionage?”

“No, Abe and I are friends and I knew there had to be an explanation. Even one frankly as absurd as ‘Major Hewlett of Setauket was in fact using a failed farmer as a personal spy.’ He was acquitted of all charges of working for the rebels, so why should I hold a misunderstanding against him?”

“But that is _exactly_ what you hold against him.”

“What could possibly make you say such an awful thing?”

He looked hurt. _Good._

“Alright.” He paused again. “I suppose there is no way but forward then. I don’t know how long it took before it occurred to me that you might have used invisible ink to send a message, certainly longer than it should have. That evening I went back to Whitehall and attached a special request for red cabbage to my supply order.”

“You have lost me again.”

“As I’ve disclosed command central has taken issue in the past with my spending. It would have been more cost effective to distill a development solution myself.” he explained quickly.

She didn’t know how that was done. Or if it was simple. Would it be damning to ask for a more detailed explanation? He might see it as her stalling for time. She let herself imagine Edmond Hewlett taking the time to explain the mysteries of the natural world to her. She’d worried never get that again.

He must have seen this on her face.

“You really don’t know, do you?” It gave him pause. “It is rather simple, really, you see, you used a vinegar based compound in order to…I digress.”

“No, please.”

“Anna, we can discuss chemistry at any point. Time is of the essence. Tell me where the rebels are hiding Abe, and I’ll teach you anything you wish to know about – wait forgive me but, you really have no idea how these things work?”

“I don’t know where Abe is. I don’t know about vinegar or cabbages. Or Latin verse about goats. All you have proven is that of the two of us you are the far more interesting and worldly. Which I have always known. Only now I see that you somehow resent me for it.”

“Rebels.” he replied.

“What rebels?”

“You forgot rebels, in your list of things you supposedly know nothing about.”

_Oh. Damn._

“So, we are getting somewhere.” He didn’t bother to conceal the twinge of glee in his voice. “I never wound up receiving the cabbage I ordered, so I had to hold the page to a flame. It was printed on onion paper, which made things incredibly difficult, but I managed.” He handed her a small piece of paper with burn marks and a partially revealed message. **355, orders received.** Anna smiled. If Hewlett had anything more this would be her ticket out.

“Can you explain what that means?”

“Can you?”

“No, and it might please you to discover, British intelligence was also unclear of what to make of it.”

British intelligence. She was damned. But if she was going down, so was he. She took another sip of wine without tasting it.

“So that we’re clear. You have been reporting on me this whole time?”

“Where is Abe?”

“I don’t know. I generally don’t sell out my friends to the enemy.”

“So you admit that you see the Royal Armed Force as an enemy?”

“You are twisting my words.”

“You are careless with them.”

_Me?! Me?!_

Anna stood up. She couldn’t take this. She had sometimes imagined this revelation, but never like this. In her fantasized scenario she told Edmond her secret, instead of the other way around. Abe wasn’t involved at all, wasn’t in any kind of danger, which upon reflection probably should have been her first tip off that her delusion which also included Edmond swearing his undying love for her and joining the cause at her side where he belonged was unrealistic. She stared to cry, completely in spite of herself and completely to her own chagrin, and he was sitting there. Studying her. Gathering empirical evidence for some report. How could she have been so fucking stupid? Assuming his initial offer of friendship was meant in earnest. Assuming that he actually enjoyed her companionship. Assuming that Ben and Caleb had abandoned her when she would receive no response from them. Assuming that she was doing her part in the fight for liberty. That she was a spy who was _actually_ assisting General Washington. How often had this happened? How often had he followed her, stolen her intelligence, reported on her? Why didn’t she see it before?

She felt his arms around her. She felt like collapsing into them, but instead pulled away with a jolt.

“Anna, please, this isn’t what I want either.”

“What do you want – and don’t you dare bring Abe up again because I swear I know nothing.”

“Would you kindly then offer an actual explanation?” he indicated to Anna’s unimportant update that never reached Ben.

Anna stopped crying. Everything stopped for her. Major Hewlett, of all people, had found her out. He had evidence on her and could convict her at any time. The man she had destroyed her credibility for. And yet, and yet, he was such an idiot that he seemed willing go to war to save Abe. All the while she had thought that she had been the better spy of the two. Evidently, Abe had fooled the major while she allowed herself to believe in the friendship he had offered her. But she could save him, the real Mr. Culper. Not from any immediate and likely imagined danger, but from any repercussions that might arise if Hewlett should ever get over his blind-spot. She wondered if he would ever wake up and regret selling his friend out. She wondered if they had ever been friends.

She wondered why he was still trying to play her from that angle.

“It’s alright. We all do things which we regret but I am going to help you make this right. I promise. Please, just tell me-"

“I don’t know anything about Abe. What even makes you think that he was kidnapped?”

“Anna…”

“You are really convinced, aren’t you? That I am so evil as to bring harm to one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

“I didn’t say-“

“Oh, but the implications were there.”

“Tell me what you do know, we will go from there. You’re not in danger, you never were. I want you on my side.”

_And I wanted to you to be at mine_ , she thought before kicking herself for it.

They stared at each other in silence, unblinking, unmoving, the way they had so many times before.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Ah, quite right, I should really-“

“Is that your strategy? To batter me, try to force me to bend or break, and then when that doesn’t seem to be working as well as you hoped, to pretend to be my friend? To seduce me while holding me just at bay?”

It _had_ worked before. At least twice. He wouldn’t win again.

“Seduce? Mrs. Strong you’ve completely-”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m afraid that I cannot offer any explanation that would satisfy you. But I never once pretended to be your friend.”

He reached for her hand. No, no, no, no. She was smarted than this. _She learned from her mistakes._

He poured himself a second glass of wine while topping hers off. “I’ve enjoyed every moment I’ve spent in your presence, Anna. You have absolutely no idea what your friendship has done to save me, and if I had my way I would have continued things that way forever. It was never real for you though, was it? You constantly and continuously went behind my back, betrayed king and country and for what? How many times do you need to lose before realizing that you are on the wrong path? Everyone deserves a second chance. But help me help you. I can’t keep doing this on my own.”

“Doing what? What exactly have you done, _friend_?”

“Anna I never reported on you, all Andre knows is that my spy was able to infiltrate the Sons of Liberty and report on their activities in York City, activities which he will no doubt put an end to. I hope that it is enough to minimalize the presence of the Queen’s Rangers and get him off my back about the Culper Ring. I imagine that that is also where you have been getting your information from? Codes sent through articles of clothing? All in children’s sizes as to save on costs? Did a hat indicate someone defecting from the rebellion, a shirt mean financial troubles?”

He was good, but it was just luck.

“At any rate, we will put an end to it. Andre requested Cicero be returned with his mother. When you broke into tears at the news I knew I was on the right path. You no longer would have an easy – if not, excuse me, completely impractical means of transmitting information from those terrorists in the city,” he paused to reflect. “It is so… unjust. I thought it would be truly over. I saw how the elevated kindness with which I treated Abe on account of my relationship with his father was reciprocated. I thought about it long afterwards and tried to make amends, and yes, you were included in that but not because I wanted to hurt you. I’ve helped you Anna. I’ve saved you multiple times from Simcoe as well as from yourself. And I will continue to do so, but you must help me.”

“You think me so weak willed that I would surrender everything which you assume I believe in because you occasionally smile at me at dinner?”

“I think that you will see the mistakes you made for what they are.”

“And now you feel the need to tell me everything you think you know about me so that I might fill you in on the rest?”

“It might help me locate Abe’s whereabouts.”

“I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO ABE!”

“Anna, calm down, please. I am willing to believe you, but if you know anything, anything at all that could help, do you really want to take that chance? I’ve seen that you’ve hung your petticoat, I know you’ve already something in mind. Tell me what I am missing.”

He had a point. But she knew nothing that could be used to save Abe, if he was in fact in danger. In the long run through, in the long run she could take suspicion off of him completely and the cause could continue, even if she could no longer be a part of it. Maybe she could save herself. She swore she would never do anything to jeopardize the safety of her friends, but Hewlett couldn’t possibly go to Major Andre with the information she was willing to provide, and Abigail would be safe.

She got up and produced a quill and an old receipt from behind the bar and upon returning to the table began to write something on the back.

“What are you doing?”

“I won’t, I can’t confess to anything of which I am innocent. But I will let you know that you are right, I am guilty, and I am ready to accept punishment for the crimes I’ve committed. But I warn you, you should be prepared to as well.”

“Anna, we will forget this if you just-“

“Again Major, I can’t help you, you have some things correct but in most areas your information is flawed.” She paused as she continued writing. “What must it be like to be you?” she asked rhetorically. “Not being able to trust anyone? You know we can never return to the way things were. I trusted you completely. I adored you, and you used me this whole time.”

“That is not completely true, Anna. This could have all ended differently. It still can. Don’t write a confession, I won’t accept it, I know that you are a wonderful person who just found herself on the wrong side of a situation. Were you forced into this? If so by whom? We can break the ring, return Setauket to peace. Work with me.”

“Who forced me into this? The _king_ , his policies forced me into this. You pretend to know me, but you don’t really, do you?”

He was taken aback by her admission.

“Perhaps not.”

“And you… you really don’t know yourself either."

She handed him the paper she had been writing.

“Anna, please don’t tie my hands.”

“Tie your hands? I’ve tied the noose.” _And not just mine._ “I truly wish I could help you in the way you envisioned Major, not just because I would do anything to help Abe, a friend who has truly earned that distinction, but because you yourself have been so, so very helpful to me.”

 

To whom it may concern;

I, Anna Strong, confess to the charge of espionage. I, of my own free will, under the names of Samuel Culper / Samuel Colpepper, procured and transmitted information pertaining to the war directly to the continental head of intelligence, Major Benjamin Tallmadge, who then relayed my reports in his recommendations to General George Washington. I was assisted in my efforts by royal officer Major Edmond Hewlett of Setauket, who placed my emancipated slave Abigail back into bondage in the household of Major John Andre. She reported to me everything of significance discussed within Andre’s headquarters by sending un-coded messages directly through the regular post. They would be given to me in the form of a parcel either by Major Hewlett directly or one of the soldiers stationed beneath him.

The document was signed and dated.

 

“No.” He looked like he was going to hyperventilate.

“You see, Major Hewlett” she said, handing back the pome with a coded message. “Agent 355 is none other than Abigail, who, knowing of my childhood ties to Major Tallmadge, came to me with this offer after you made one of the biggest miscalculations of your career. If you were even half as observant as you would like to think yourself, you might have noticed that when she belonged to my husband, she always helped me with the bookkeeping. You think that a skill of an illiterate? Furthermore, do you honestly lack the basic humanity to think that any mother would passively accept the reality of being ripped away from her child? And do you really think that anyone, really anyone, could simply allow their town to be occupied without retaliation? We all do what we can. Maybe you’ll go through the proper channels and see me tried and hanged, maybe you’ll shoot me here and wash your hands of this. But before you do, please know this, General Washington thanks you for your service to the cause.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So … some quick explanations:
> 
> Early Lesbia hendecasyllables: Catullus’s poetry from the beginning of his affair with a married woman. Because that is exactly what Hewlett would be reading. Mmm. Hmm.  
> (The pome I quoted though is “69” which is legit about a guy suffering from his rumored poor hygiene.)
> 
> Vinegar and red cabbage water: I am fairly sure this is the invisible ink / developer solution the show uses. It works as a pH indicator. Vinegar can also be developed by heat, and onion paper is this super, super thin paper that my grandmother used to use in correspondence to save on postage before the EU regulated prices on everything. No clue if they used it in the 18th century, but the Bible shown in the trial at the end of the first season looks like it was printed on something at least similar.
> 
> Next time: Hewlett reacts, dodges Anna’s attacks, and we get slightly more information about the Abe subplot.
> 
> Also, I want to thank each and every one of you for the hits, kudos, and comments. You guys are the best! And I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season. Happy Christmas, and till the next update. ;*


	4. Red Handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a dialog-heavy direct continuation of Chapter Three. Hewlett tries to get a grip on his complicated idea of Anna within the context of the lies he assumes she’s telling and … they argue about politics, take a few personal jabs at one another, heavily discuss the possible motives of absent characters, blood is spilt, an L-Bomb gets dropped pretty early on but fails to detonate, and there are a few lines at the end that may even move the story along.

Hewlett had stopped actually reading Anna’s confession a few minutes before he could bring himself to speak. He noticed her playing with her now empty wine glass as she shifted in her seat. Periodically he would steal brief sideways glimpses of Mrs. Strong before darting his eyes in the opposite direction to give the appearance that it was the document he was studying, not her. It was a skill he had developed over the course of his service and mastered during his weeks of living with her at Whitehall. Anna seemed completely unaware.

  
Her speech had ended his feelings of self-deprecation as quickly as her script had brought them on. What had otherwise been a clever ploy had made several things abundantly clear to Richard Hewlett, Anna Strong was either completely blinded by her fool-hearted ideology or there was someone she was trying to protect. Either way, she seemed to trust him enough to let some things slide and the longer he kept her on edge, the more likely it seemed that she would betray the information he actually needed.

  
“So.” He heard her say. He didn’t look up, he didn’t need to in order to know he ought to quickly make a decision about whether to attack or retreat and risk letting Anna hold the higher ground. He knew from his prior dealings with rebels that they grew more careless the closer they felt to victory, and if the verbal crucifixion Anna had subjected him was to be of any indication, she seemed to think hers was at hand.

  
“So.” He repeated. He met her eyes finally; scared, angry, confused? He couldn’t quite discern, but that was of no matter. He could easily throw her into the trap that she had intended to set for him.

  
Hewlett glanced quickly down at her confession, pressed his lips together and swallowed. When he met her eyes again, he said in a quiet but even voice, “I fear that I may have underestimated your convictions, Mrs. Strong, although not as much as you seem to have underestimated mine. I am afraid that if any of this bears true I simply cannot allow it to go unreported.”

  
“You’d be signing your own death warrant.” Anna countered. She seemed shocked. It was as if she was comprehending the words he was saying but not the situation she had put them in. Hewlett wondered if his weaknesses were really so obvious to her that the very idea of him being a man of honor could seem foreign.

  
“Perhaps, though only indirectly. I believe in the law, Mrs. Strong, but I am forced to acknowledge it has its limitations. Here, for example. If what you say is true, we clearly all deserve to hang. Unfortunately, I can’t conceive of a scenario in which anyone but your man Tallmadge will meet such an end.”

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“Washington will almost assuredly be granted a gentleman’s execution should he survive the war. Abigail’s fate, if indeed she is involved in your treasonous plot, will be of Major Andre’s choosing, and” he paused, “though I can assure you of his reputation as a gentlemen, I fear he doesn’t take betrayal well.”

  
“Please, Edmond, you don’t, you can’t honestly mean to -”

  
He held up his finger.

  
_No, she is buying this._ He thought without any real feeling of satisfaction.

  
Everything was exactly as he intended, but the pain, regret and desperation he now detected in her voice vexed him. He resented the fact that she could seemingly believe that he would actually subject her to any real harm nearly as much as he had feared that she wouldn’t moments before.

  
“Cicero may have the luck to be taken in by – oh, help me – I can’t quite recall the name he goes by now - Akim-something? Provided he is still alive.”

  
“Akinbode?”

  
“Ah- yes, yes, I believe that’s it. No matter though, the best scenario your young ward will have at survival will involve him growing into the type of man as those that serve Simcoe.”

  
“You can’t! You wouldn’t!” she gasped as she tensed up with fear.

  
The empty wine glass that Anna had been holding shattered in her hand, breaking some of her skin with it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Hewlett removed his over coat and tore off part of his shirt at the collar with which to wrap her wounds. She protested, but he ignored her. After finding the cuts to be shallow upon examination, he walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of clear sprits for sanitization, along with a far less dangerous pewter mug which he placed in front of her.

  
“I believe it’s my round.” He said as he bandaged her hand.

  
She winced.

  
“Here – no, please, hold still. I’m sorry Anna but its better if I wrap this tight. Ah – there we are. Um, is there anything specific I can get you?”

  
She was silent. He noticed that rather than starring at her hand, or at him, she was looking at the weapons holstered at his waist. He tried to respond as soothingly as possible to her unasked question.

  
“I don’t mean to hurt you. I do, however, mean to find out where the rebels are hiding Abe by the night’s end.” _And like it or not, you’ll soon be assisting in that endeavor._

  
“I don’t know.”

  
He knew what she meant, but arguing over information she wasn’t willing to provide had been getting him nowhere and Hewlett wasn’t willing to invest any more time on that specific line of questioning at the moment.

  
“No matter, I believe it was my turn to choose anyway.” He walked behind the counter again at took an open bottle of a drink Martin De Young sold as _Rosé_ which everyone in town knew to be watered down New Jersey red. Anna was still staring at his mid-section when he joined her back at the table.

  
“Would it make you more comfortable if I were to put my full uniform back on?”

  
“Not really…” she looked down at her hand before meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

  
“You’re quite welcome.” He smiled in spite of himself, feeling so much of the fear that had overwhelmed his anger and resentment dissipate.

  
They sat in silence for a few minutes. No, silence was uncomfortable, this was something different. It was simply quiet and he was sitting across from simply the most beautiful girl in the entire thirteen colonies. For a moment he let himself forgot that she was also one of the most dangerous, but for a moment it didn’t matter. After seeing her get hurt he felt that _no_ victory could have been worth the small amount of _her_ blood that had been spilt. In that moment he had asked himself something which would he knew would damn him for the rest of his life;

  
_Exactly how long have I been in love with Anna Strong?_

  
_No_. No, no, no, no. _A thousand times no!_ This wasn’t love, it was exacerbation. She was a turncoat, a traitor, a villain and a fool. For everything else she was, or pretended to be, she had confessed to rebel ties, to espionage, to treason, and she had been so quick to take down people she had previously referred to as friends with her. Including him, and … _including poor Abraham._   
Hewlett was relieved when he noticed Anna had averted her eyes and was no longer gazing at him but at the statement she had written, possibly afraid to ask where it left her.

  
“Shall we continue?”

  
“Major Hewlett -” she pleaded. But for what exactly? He couldn’t bear to look at her as he continued, frightened to gauge her reaction, though hesitant to admit why.

  
“Where were we then? Ah, yes. If I accepted the idea that I had played an active role in betraying my country I feel I would have earned nothing less than a proper hanging. But that is not how I see it, as much as you seek to hurt me it is not how you see it, and, were I to provide this as evidence, I doubt highly that my superiors would accuse me of using my position to aid that devil Washington. The far more likely outcome is that I will be court marshaled for gross negligence rather than open treason, stripped of my rank and shipped off somewhere warm to be used as cannon-fodder. If I have any luck I’ll die of hunger or heat before getting my chance to meet the end you have happily given to so many of my countrymen. And, as for you -” he started, but Anna had ceased listening.

  
“Then don’t!”

  
She seemed genuinely concerned – for _him_. But Hewlett knew he couldn’t risk almost losing himself again to the idea of the girl who the real Anna Strong had proven beyond doubt was fictitious.

  
“As you’ve stated Anna, you intended to tie the noose. Unfortunately the reality of the situation will likely be more figurative than literal.”

  
“That’s not what I wanted at all. I never meant to hurt anyone, in this, anyone. Not Abigail, not Cicero, not you. Especially not you.”

  
“Than what did you want Mrs. Strong? Perhaps we can make a deal.”

  
“What kind of a deal?” She sounded skeptic.

  
“Well, for starters, do you care to identify who it is that you are trying to protect?”

  
Anna looked shocked. He watched the color drain from her already pale face. This was it. She was finally cornered. Hewlett gave her a moment to collect herself, a moment which he instantly regretted when she answered.

  
“You! You fool! I’ve been trying to protect you this whole time.” There was a severity in her tone that he hadn’t heard before. “You know what the truly tragic thing is? Your plan, as ridiculous as it was, to offer me friendship, home, security, protection, essentially all of the things you robbed me of in the first place so that I would be, how would you best phrase it? _More sympathetic to your politics?_ It was actually working. Had this happened a few days ago, I would have had the rebel ties that may or may not have proven beneficial in your fruitless quest to find Setauket’s favorite prodigal son. But I broke them, in order to save you from a plot on your life.”

  
He didn’t know what hurt more; that she continued to evade his line of questioning, that she seemed to in fact hold him accountable for the ills that had befallen her, that he so wanted there to have been some truth to her claim of his previous plan having essentially functioned, or, most likely, that inventing a fictional plot on his life was ultimately such a _Simcoe_ move. She was better than that.

  
“No, Mrs. Strong, you know what the truly tragic thing is? If the tables were turned, I would have done anything to help you, despite there being so very much which I fear I may never understand about you. If it were my friend in danger, I wouldn’t waste your time with damning confessions or false claims of changes in politics, or assassination plots, or misplaced affection.” he chocked.

  
“I have been honest with you about everything.”

  
“Alright.” he answered dismissively. It wasn’t an invitation for her to continue, but Anna never did seem to pick up on subtlety.

  
“I wish you were the person you pretend to be, Major Hewlett.”

  
That hit him harder than she likely intended or knew.

  
_I do too, Anna. Almost as much as I wish you were the person you play at._

  
“In what sense do you mean?”

  
“I wish you were the kind, decent child of the renaissance. The man who seems to know everything about math, science, history, literature, music - who happily explains these things with patience and without pretention. The man who believes in love and justice and fairness the way those themes are spoken of in the Bible and holds himself to meeting these impossible standards. The man who holds his close friends near and dear and would forgive them any transgression. I wish you were that man, the man I had so long believed you to be.”

  
She caught him completely off-guard. He paused as he struggled to formulate an appropriate response.

  
“I wish there wasn’t a war going on forcing me to be anything but.”

  
“How can you of all people not believe in what I am fighting for? You, who can recite from memory any number of philosophical works and translate them on sight? You, who claim that you’d no intention of joining the army in the first place. You, who seek to make amends for all of the evils your king forces upon your office? How do you _not_ , how _can_ you not believe in the ideals of freedom from tyranny and of the liberty promised by self-rule?”

  
Hewlett knew that Anna was biding her time, he knew that it worked against his interests in every conceivable fashion to entertain a confessed rebel’s political leanings, especially given that the less he knew the better chance he stood of being able to protect her from the law he was meant to inforce. Still, he had never been able to justify to himself how anyone could believe in the folly which she seemed happy to die for and his curiosity got the better of him.

  
“Forgive me, but you seem to have a very base understanding of the concepts of which you speak. How exactly would your so-said self-rule free you, specifically, from what you define as tyranny? Please don’t answer with colonial rhetoric. I am honestly curious, in your view, how you think that handing over the reins of government to a group of militant oligarchs should you in fact win this war would be at all to your civil benefit.”

  
“Let me answer your question by raising one to you, when you speak of militant oligarchs do you realize that you are simply projecting? America will be ruled as she ought, by the will of the people. By electing representatives who know this land and speak for the interests of the people living here. Not of one man separated from his people by thousands of miles of sea. By militant oligarch, I know you mean to imply that Washington has designs on becoming another Cromwell, but, forgive me, even in what I consider the highly unlikely scenario that that were the case, wouldn’t it be an improvement on the system we currently have in place? I don’t mean this personally, but the people who are charged to inforce rule over the colonies ought to have some permanent stake in the outcome of their decisions.”

  
She may not have meant any offence, but Anna had gone just a bit too far in her insinuations. He was embittered. Did Mrs. Strong really think he lacked a sense of permanent stake in Setauket? Hewlett cared about the town which he had come to think of as home more than he imagined any of its natural born residents did. He knew that for all of his deficits as a commander he had the best interests of the village and its people at heart. It was the reason that he refused to surrender against any odds to any threat. It was the reason that he refused to sell his commission, though he teased the idea when he was in the blackest of moods. Hewlett recognized that though it would likely be in the interest of self-preservation to do so, it took a far different character to accept a wartime post as one assigned to a diplomatic mission. He wouldn’t allow the other sort _near_ Setauket.

  
“Define then will of the people for me. Which people? How can you be sure of their intentions?” he pressed, noting more anger in his voice than he intended.

  
“Do you think people would be willing to fight, kill and die for an ideal if their intentions were pure?”

  
“That sounds like the very definition of impurity.”

  
“Isn’t that in principle the life which you also willingly lead?”

  
“I defend the empire and its people. You fight for a utopian world that will never exist. In principle, I think your ideals are sound, but, in practice, democracy was disastrous historically and I don’t know what kind of hubris allows such a sizable percentage of your population to think that you could create a functioning system of government run by the general will of the people when your regional needs run counter to one another.”

  
“Then forgive me but how for the love of all that is holy can you possibly support King George running half of the known world?”

  
“Because there is simply no feasible alternative.”

  
“Because you are too afraid to try.” Anna gave him a testing smile. Hewlett did his best to return it, but found it difficult to grin with the knowledge of what war truly was.

  
“No matter how noble you may think your goals, Mrs. Strong, the means with which you hope to achieve them are unjustifiable.”

  
“Specific to the crimes to which I have confessed or to the fight for independence as a whole?”

  
“Both.” He reached for a small leather notebook hidden within the stack of paperwork he had brought along. It was something he always kept on his person - along with most of the documents he had gathered pertaining to his suspicions of Anna - since the day he had found Judge Woodhull searching through his personal belongings. When he located the pages he wanted to show her he passed the book over, careful to keep enough pressure of its spine to keep her from viewing his notes from various secret meetings with Abe and from seeing and perhaps mocking the musings of his absent mind. Purely, he told himself, because he didn’t want their conversation to take another unnecessary turn, though he recognized his tension at the thought of having to explain why there were so many drawings of girls that might resemble her had he any skill with a pen.

  
“What is this?” she asked.

  
“On the right is a list of all the men I’ve lost in the past sixteen months.” He saw Anna counting. “Thirty-four.” He’d save her some time. “The left contains a templet I use when writing to their widows, parents, children, the people suffering the loss of a loved one as well as the loss of an income they likely need for survival. It doesn’t really make the task any less horrible to perform.”

  
She studied the open pages for a moment. For a moment, Hewlett let himself see a twinge of regret, but when Anna answered, he realized that her humanity had been imagined.

  
“Don’t you think we tried everything to assert the rights we’re meant to have as English subjects before it came to this?”

  
“I don’t. Ten years ago or so, before the Stamp Act was passed, before any of this really started, the PM delayed action in order to give the colonies the opportunity to come up with a means raise revenue themselves. Suggestions were not forthcoming, and then your compatriots had the nerve to assert ‘no taxation without representation’. Every chance we have offered you at cooperation or reconciliation has been met with similar madness. Even your confession here,” he retracted the book and laid the document she’d written in front of her in its place, “follows the same pattern. I told you I was willing to forget that crimes had ever been committed in the name Samuel Culper if you would only tell me what you knew about Abe Woodhull’s disappearance. Instead of taking what I would call an extremely generous offer, you sought to confess to a crime you wouldn’t have otherwise been on trial for, sought to incriminate me and this poor woman Abigail in the process and for the life of me I can’t understand why.”

  
“So you truly mean to bring this to trail.”

  
“Well, I, I suppose that fully depends.” _How could any woman possibly be this difficult?_

  
“I don’t know Abe is, I don’t really even understand why you think he is missing. I did abuse my influence within the ring, which I swear contains no more members to the full extent of my knowledge than the ones listed here, in order to spare your life. You wanted honesty, I gave it to you, and frankly I am not sure you deserve it.”

  
“Frankly I think that if you are going to insist on providing false testimony I at the very least deserve better constructed lies.”

  
“Why is it so impossible for you to believe what I say? Save for trying conceal my politics in the spirit of self-preservation, I have never once lied to you. While you were pretending to be my friend I actually counted you among mine. When I saw that I would be unable to escape from your paranoid assertions I came clean about my actions. And when I discovered yet another plan for your imminent demise I did everything within my power to get my contacts to spare you.”

  
The last bit was such a strange point for her to continue to insist upon.

  
“So you claim … And yet days later you wrote a confession with the intention of seeing me hanged?”

  
“I wrote that confession with the intention of forcing you to set me free.”

  
“You think that I would flee from my duties if you could convince me that I had not lived up to my office in the past?”

  
“Nothing which I confessed to was a lie, Major Hewlett. You were instrumental in the transmission of intelligence. Abigail suggested that we use her new position to smuggle information in exchange for my caring for Cicero. You brought that upon yourself. What I intended in bringing that fact to light-”

  
“Stop. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? You claim to have saved me from certain death only to turn around and sign the warrant. You claim to have considered me a friend while trying to exploit my sympathies in order to assist you in some plot dreamt up by a slave that would somehow help you create your new world. Why then? Will she too have a voice in this _will of the people_?”

  
“She just wanted to protect her son. I never, never thought that you would be so callus, I … I just. I thought I could –"

  
“It’s amazing. How long have you really held such a low opinion of me, Mrs. Strong? How could you have honestly cast me as the villain in your narrative, and for that matter, how could Abigail? Have you ever stopped to consider what I’ve done for both of you? Do you think it coincidence that Martin De Young offered you a job here after legally purchasing your traitor husband’s legally confiscated property? Do you think I didn’t at least try to find all of your former slaves employment as well? But think of how hard it was for you, a young, beautiful, educated girl of good name and proper breeding to survive on her own after losing her position in town. How difficult do you think it would have been for an emancipated negro woman, even one with sufficient intellect and charm, to find work in a small town suitable to support herself and her son in an economy absolutely devastated by the war you started? Especially if I couldn’t even use my influence to make that happen the way I was able to for you? The world that we live in does not function according to the rules of the one in your head. I did her a favor by giving her to Andre. From what I know of him, he is a kind and generous man when it comes to his household. That’s why I didn’t question the packages when they started arriving. That’s why I find it almost impossible to believe, if Abigail is truly as astute as you’ve indicated,” he pointed to Anna’s written confession, “that she would come up with a plan to ruin the very people who have done her the greatest kindness. Or do you mean to imply that everyone in this godforsaken colony is as blind to reality as you?”

  
“How can you call that a kindness? Have you never known anything of love? How can you pretend even to yourself that a mother should be taken away from her child for any reason, least of all economic?”

  
“Have you never known anything of life, Mrs. Strong?”

  
_Because I have._

  
Hewlett tried to escape from the demons he could normally vanquish with simple acceptance. He remembered that he most certainly didn’t feel any great sense of purpose when he’d been sold by his own parents to the army as a boy. That had come with time. Anna knew that. She knew that because he was the type of fool to let him guard down in front of people he knew he should have been the weariest of. He cursed himself for it. Did he really long for the institution of friendship so badly?

  
He realized in horror that this must have all been playing out in his expression.

  
She touched his hand. He pulled it hastily away, determined not to retreat into whatever it was that existed between them.

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
“Anna, just -”

  
“Wait.” He heard the almost terrifying determination return to her voice. “I am sorry that whatever blinds you to understanding my fight also blinds you to accepting the truth as I attempted to lay it out for you. I’m sorry if you feel that I misused you, I’m sorry that our friendship stated and ended in this context. I’m sorry for any direct role I played in the loss of your subordinates, and I’m sorry that you would betray your own morals and better judgement to prove a point, especially given that your heart is not in this fight at all. I can’t make a deal with you, Major Hewlett.”

  
“Then I’m sorry that I’ve allowed you to drag me down to your level. I’m sorry that I’m not the man you want me to be, and I’m sorry that you seem to think whatever you are truly concealing is worth your life.”

  
“I’m sorry my life is something you’d be willing to take on the grounds that I can’t offer you the information you want.”

  
There it was. Something of a surrender. He just had to keep her talking.

  
“Forgive me Anna, but I fear I may never understand the motives of the players as you have laid them out.” he lied in order to change the subject. “Could you please perhaps instead explain the mechanics? What did you mean by un-coded messages?”

  
“Here,” she said “I’ll show you. Do you have a piece of paper which I can use?”

  
She seemed as eager to volunteer her explanation for this particular fib as she had been to discuss politics or to personally condemn him. Maybe he had given her too much time to construct a plan. Hewlett didn’t want any part of Anna’s testimony to be so much as rooted in truth, but the more he could make her comfortable with revealing, the better chance it seemed that she could be of any use to him. She seemed to believe his ruse, maybe if he continued to make her feel as if she had nothing left to lose she would share enough that would let him separate the truth from her lies.

  
Hewlett tore off a blank page from his notebook and handed it to Anna. She folded it and tore off the bottom eighth. She winced when she grabbed the pen, it was clearly difficult to write with a bandaged hand. He was reminded about how his lust for victory had caused her injury and instantly felt awful. She was deeply confused about the king’s policies, yes, but he couldn’t simply allow her to suffer, especially as it was again at his expense.

  
“Oh, no, please don’t strain yourself, Mrs. Strong. Does it hurt terribly?”

  
“A bit, but I’ve been through worse.”

  
“Yes, I suppose that – what are you writing?”

  
“You’ll see.”

  
“Please, allow me. I’m, that is, I’m terribly sorry that I upset you as much as I did. I never intended that you would be injured.”

  
“I’m done.” She replied as she folded the paper in half again. “There is something you can help me with though. May I see your sleeve?”

  
“Hm?”

  
“Give me your hand.”

  
Hewlett obliged. Anna very carefully examined the hem, tearing at the thread a bit. “Perfect, double threaded. Do you mind if I demonstrate?”

  
“Absolutely. Ah – no that came out wrong. What I meant was, is, you have my full permission.”

  
“Good” Anna ripped part of the hem with her index finger and put the note inside.

  
“Normally I would sew it up, but I don’t have my kit on me. Still, you can see in a way how we were able to transmit messages.”

  
It was true, Hewlett barely noticed the paper, and provably only would if he had known what to look for. In a folded garment he wouldn’t have seen or felt it at all.

  
“That’s rather ingenious.” he admitted.

  
“I really can’t take the credit.”

  
“Tallmadge?”

  
“Abigail, actually. Comically enough, Ben hated when I gave him notes like this and Abigail refused to learn encryption. So most of my actual role was translating her short hand into an alphanumeric formula for the army.”

  
Hewlett smiled. If he could believe anything Mrs. Strong confessed, it was that bureaucracy was in fact universal.

  
“And then you hung your petticoat to let your contact know that you were ready to transmit her information?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“Then, may I ask, why is your petticoat hanging now? What new information could you possibly have to share with Cicero gone?”

  
“There is no new information.”

  
_No, I’ve just not provided you with sufficient time to consider your response._

  
“Who is 722?”

  
Anna went white again. Hewlett handed her a message she had left earlier that morning.

 

  
<< 721, requesting help with 722. Lost prospective could result in reckless judgement error. >>

 

  
“There is no new information.” she repeated icily.

  
“You are 721, Abigail is 355, and to your knowledge the ring only consists of the two of you?”

  
“I know that it is hard for you to believe me, but I was trying to save your life with that message.”

  
“It is impossible for me to believe because you won’t volunteer any details to support your claim.”

  
“I can’t. Please trust that this is to your benefit. Please. If there was any truth to our friendship at all.”

  
Hewlett realized that it was senseless to press the question further. Sorting out Anna’s lies was difficult enough, he wanted to get as much facts as he could her before she started weaving a new web of fiction.

  
He removed the message from his cuff to see what else she had written and was surprised by its content.

 

  
<< I’m calling your bluff. >>

 

  
“What do you mean by this?”

  
“I mean that you’re not going to give me up based on my confession.”

  
“That’s rather astute.”

  
“It’s the way you keep looking at my hand. You care too much about a small cut, I really don’t think that you have it in you to see me hanged at all.”

  
“As I said you likely wouldn’t be hanged were I to submit your confession, which of course I can’t due to the fact that it is absolutely riddled with inconsistencies. But your right, there is a weakness in my constitution that forces me to honor the promises I make, including the ones I made to you.”

  
“I don’t hold you to them.”

  
“That’s well, that is sort of the thing, you don’t need to. I’d stand to you regardless.” It was perhaps the most honest admission of the evening. He had blown his cover, but at least he had virtue in his favor.

  
“Edmond -”

  
_Or perhaps not._

  
“Please don’t.”

  
“You’re sometimes so difficult to comprehend, _Major_.”

  
“It’s not that. It _is_ that. Anna, I’m sorry. I suppose I could have tried to be a better friend to you.”

  
“Again I don’t really follow.”

  
“My name, it’s not – it’s never mind. None of that is immediately important.”

  
“Is any of this? The truth is, Major, you’re important to me. Your friendship is important to me. I’m sorry that I can’t explain it to you in more detail, but so much of what I’ve done recently has been for your own protection.” She reached for his hand again, he allowed it.

  
“Then prove it. Help me.”

  
“I can’t. It’s not that I simply won’t, I truly can’t, Major. I don’t know where Abe is, and I can’t convince you of the truth about my role on any level.”

  
“You’re starting to.” Hewlett admitted. “Can you at least explain this to me, how did you really get started in this in the first place? As I understand it, Abigail told you to contact Ben Tallmadge which you somehow managed because she sought vengeance for being separated from her child? Forgive me but that sounds a bit - ”

  
“Not exactly.”

  
“Mm.”

  
“Ben came to me about two years ago requesting help in a plan that should have gotten rid of Simcoe. Truth be told, he’d asked Abe first who refused due to his obvious strong support of the king and when I accidently found out about this I volunteered in Abe’s place. Ben refused my offer at first, but I was able to convince him that the eyes and ears one needs in order to gather information are not gender exclusive. One night I snuck into your office, obtained the plans for a raid and passed them along. The raid was averted and Simcoe was captured, though, unfortunately, later released. I thought it would be a one-time only incident, but when an opportunity to serve the cause for freedom was presented to me, as it was when Abigail and Cicero were to be torn apart - even though I now understand that from your perspective that you acted with the best intentions – forgive me but I couldn’t let it slip.”

  
“So you do truly hold me responsible for most of your activity as a spy as you confessed then?”

  
“Only for the mechanics. Ego doesn’t work for you, Major.”

  
Anna seemed to truly believe in her mad political ideology and she seemed proud of what she had done to further her cause. Hewlett could accept that she had joined the rebellion if it was Simcoe she wanted liberation from – thank God that man was no longer allowed to wear a regular uniform! He also understood how their misplaced aggression could have led Anna and her slave to come up with a frankly brilliant plan for smuggling information.   
Still, the ring _had_ to be bigger than she was letting on. There was someone else, there was something else, something key that he had to be missing. Especially if he were to believe Culper and Culpepper were the same person. He considered the topics which Anna kept avoiding:

  
_Abraham Woodhull_

  
_Agent 722_

  
_Details of this plot she kept alluding to_

  
Somehow he felt they were all related. He hoped it was something to do with Major Tallmadge, if only because she seemed more than willing to discuss the role of a known traitor.

  
“May I inquire, Mrs. Strong, why you would continue to place your faith in a man who let you down?”

  
“I…I suppose I have no real chance of escape.”

  
And just like that, she had said the words he realized he had beeping to hear for months. Anna wasn’t a demon, no, she was the sweet, kind girl he hoped he knew. She wanted to be done with it, she just needed a way out. A way he would figure out how to grant her. For a moment everything about him lit up.

  
“Ah, that’s, that’s great Anna. I swear on my life I’ll do anything to help you out of this situation, I may even have a plan, but I need your full cooperation.”

  
Anna pulled back.

  
“Oh, oh- were we still talking about Ben then? I meant you. I thought, because of everything we discussed, what you really think of me - I, I’m not sure what exactly to think of you. On one hand I think you truly are kind and decent, but on the other you’re far too ambitious, and far too willing to stand on the wrong side of history because it allows you some semblance of comfort now. But you are smarter and braver than that and I can’t begin to understand how you can justify your claims of fighting for king and country when you clearly are willing to break rank when convention doesn’t sit with your moral code. Why not join me? I know you feel it too. We were meant to fight this war together.”

  
“We were.” _At least we can agree to that._

  
As tempting as it was to follow her down another political rabbit hole, he pressed on.

  
“I received a ransom note.”

  
“Don’t”

  
“It was, very, very specific and very much in line with everything I have observed and you have confessed. But some things, even where they make sense don’t quite add up. If Culper and Colpepper are the same person – you, and Abigail is Agent 355, is Ben Agent 722?”

  
“No.”

  
“What does the name Caleb Brewster mean to you?”

  
“He was a childhood friend. And not to further confound you or raise your suspicions, I promise you he’s not Agent 722 either.”

  
“Do you think it is possible that one of your childhood friends wrote me a letter about my involvement with young Mr. Woodhull?”

  
“No, defiantly not. I don’t know how things are in England, Major Hewlett, but in New York we generally don’t turn our back on our friends when we have disagreements. May I see the random note? I it exists, it honestly must have come from Simcoe. I have no idea why that wasn’t your first suspicion. It would have been mine. I feel as if you made up this entire scenario to get a confession from me and for what?”

  
“This letter-“

  
“Is one I can assure you that none of us wrote. Do you honestly think my little band of idealist would resort to something like that? Tallmadge is from Setauket, he would never seek to hurt one of its residents.” Anna was back on the attack.

  
_Fine._

  
“Tallmadge is a brute who resorts to violent extortion tactics at the earliest possible opportunity. Even Simcoe was shocked by his treatment at the then captain’s hands.”

  
“What is it that has you convinced that Simcoe didn’t send this supposed letter? Pardon my impertinence but isn’t that your go-to?”

  
It was, she had him there. But Hewlett had considered it from every angle and found that explanation wanting. He didn’t need Anna preying on his fears.

  
“From a deployment?”

  
“He could have-“

  
“I’ll save you the speculation. Simcoe could not and would not have kidnapped Abe. If he was back he would be quick to make his presence known, and he wouldn’t send one of his men back to do the job, he needs all of them and knows it. For all of his flaws as a human being he is an excellent field commander. Beyond that, this isn’t quite his style. He loathes me and seeks to torment me, but he always stops just short of doing any lasting damage, and everything he does he does in a way that could never be proven to trace back to him. He’s the godson of an admiral, his career is going to advance no matter what I do to impede it. Given that I know he sees the post I currently occupy as the next step on his ladder, I know he wouldn’t take steps to make the commission more difficult for himself should he obtain it. He’s not stupid. Furthermore, the letter I received is a bit too specific. If Simcoe knew these details he would have already taken what is mine for his own and I’d be dying on a beach somewhere as I’ve mentioned. I _know_ you wrote this, or one of your allies did.”

  
“I didn’t and they wouldn’t. Let me see the damn thing. I’ll prove my innocence in this particular charge.”

  
He handed her the letter.

  
What followed was silence. Not quite. Dead, frightening, honest silence. She read the random note with what he perceived to be horror. He considered that she truly hadn’t known what her _childhood friends_ meant to do to poor Mr. Woodhull. When Anna brought herself to speak, she was holding back tears.  
  
  
“I know how bad this sounds, Major. But I think I know exactly where Abe is, and trust me, you want no part of this at all.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year you guys! I hope everyone had a fun break! <3
> 
> I am really glad I was able to get this update in before my imminent return to reality on Monday. Sorry it took as long as it did, even on holiday I have no patience for unfinished projects, but travel, parties, hangovers – fun, fun, fun.  
> Anyway, that was it. And now hopefully the plot can progress a bit.   
> We will probably spend one more chapter sitting at this table before a transitional one brings us into the next arc. I hope to get there before mid-January when due to (football) transfer window speculation I normally avoid the internet altogether for a few weeks. But … as mentioned, Monday threatens to bring me back to life and who knows how my maths-brain will be able to cope with writing English-language spy stories. We will get there eventually I’m sure. 
> 
> I don’t think that there is anything in this chapter that I really need to explain, but I do have a pretty big note about the Edmond / Edmund discrepancy, namely, I’ll probably never get round to fixing it for a few reasons – the most significant of which is that I can be admittedly lazy. (So, sorry if that is a huge annoyance.)
> 
> As always thank you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos and whatnot. I really, really appreciate the heck out of that and want you all to know that your are beauiful and talented and it means a lot that you've invested whatever spare time in reading this. I hope you've enjoyed.
> 
> Up next: Anna, get your gun.


	5. Guns and [Increasingly Complicated Relation]Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna, convinced beyond doubt that Abe had written a letter for his own ransom in order to lure Major Hewlett into a trap, tries to persuade the major to let her handle the hostage situation alone without giving away any clues as to what she thinks is actually happening. When she is unable to do so, she tries to show Hewlett that she is more than capable of defending herself and ends up confessing to another crime. Needless to say, Hewlett does not exactly take this well.
> 
> (This chapter is a bit more dramatic than those that precede it, and a bit more romantic as well. Well … kind of?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger Warning. Please read.***
> 
> In general I am just not the type of person who internalizes the things I consume, but I understand and respect that some people do. That said, I am not sure if this chapter really does require a trigger warning, but because I don’t want to risk causing anyone unnecessary stress or pain, there is a direct mention of the events that happen at the end of 2.9. Nothing is what I would personally describe as explicit, but being that it deals in part with attempted sexual assault, please be forewarned.
> 
> (I raised the rating as an added precaution, so maybe now I’ll be obliged to write smut later on.)
> 
> Beyond that, I feel like Anna has a bigger crush on Hewlett than he does on her. Or, at least, she is more in-tune with her emotions. I made some reference to this in the third chapter, but here I’ve just gone all out with it. Enjoy.

“Absolutely not, Mrs. Strong.” Major Hewlett repeated for the seventeenth time.

No matter how she phrased her request for him to allow let her handle the situation alone, his resolve to deny her refused to weaken. For Anna, this demand was non-negotiable. Experience told her she wouldn’t get far. She thought back to the weeks she spent berating Captain Wakefield for doing nothing towards the rescue of his commanding officer. She’d spent every spare moment pleading, begging, bargaining and threatening a man whose response remained constant - _I’m under orders_. Fifteen days into Hewlett’s imprisonment, the captain had sought a restraining order against her. Judge Woodhull insisted it was outside of his jurisdiction, not, to Anna’s mind, thanks in any way to some hidden humanity, but rather due to the fact that the judge was as eager to see her in court as he was to see her in his home. So the captain took to writing his higher-ups for help against _the harpy_ , as he saw her. Anna wrote to every name she knew imploring them to intervene in the real problem. The pain she felt in her hand now was nothing compared to what she had experienced holding a quill for so long, writing the same words over and over as if she was being punished for acting out in a lesson. Sometimes she wondered if she would have gone so far had Abe not tied his fate to that of the major. And then, one night, the answer became obvious. As she sat on the edge of Simcoe’s bed ready to offer the demon everything in exchange for his assistance she’d said it.

_I’ve fallen in love with him._

She was as surprised as he must have been to hear those words, surprised more to recognize the truth in them. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done to bring him to safety, regardless of what other forces may be at play.

And now Major Hewlett had to deal with the grave misfortune that her statement still bore true.

Even if she would never repeat it, to him or anyone else. Even if it was painfully obvious to her that those feeling were unwarranted, more than likely stood no chance of reciprocation, and stood in the way of what could be the best possible scenario for the ring at this point.

Anna was stubborn. Hewlett was as well, far more so than even his captain, but in a battle of wills he didn’t stand a chance against her.

“You have no idea what you are up against.” she stated.

“Perhaps not, but on that count am I entirely to blame? Regardless, there are certain elements I can deduce. First, this isn’t an army, this isn’t an ambush. It may well be a trap as you’ve stated, but if what you say is true that you think you can negotiate the situation from your weakened position within the ring, there is no reason-”

“They don’t want money, Major Hewlett.”

“No, of course not. Such a demand is ridiculous. I’m not sure what Major Tallmadge hopes to gain in this, but we’ve managed to arbitrate in the past and -”

“Not Ben.”

“Then who?”

_The very man whom you’re trying to save, you fool. The man whose name I cannot surrender._

Anna studied the major. Even in the usually more flattering candle-light she could see the fine lines, now magnified by the powder that had sunken into them over the course of the day, covering a face which she couldn’t imagine could have ever been described as beautiful. He seemed more tired than anxious, more agitated than curious. Perplexed though self-assured.

“I don’t know.” she answered.

He made no sound, no obvious movement, but Anna could feel his frustration. There was nothing she could think to say though that would meet the needs of either of her conflicting goals of keeping Abe’s identity safe and keeping the major safe from Abe. As soon as she had read the ransom note, she knew Abe had written it although she couldn’t make sense of why. Was it purely in the interest of self-protection? Had Hewlett absent-mindedly mentioned any of his theories or anxieties regarding the ring? Was it jealousy? Or had time created an extremely volatile mixture of cruelty and nescience within him?

Anna wanted to believe that prison hadn’t fully stripped her oldest friend, ex-fiancé, occasional lover and constant ally of all reason. She envied Hewlett’s unwavering belief in him, questioning if she would ever again enjoy blind faith in anyone.

She wondered what conversations had taken place between the two men previously. She wondered if either of them had been attentive at all. Abe certainly not. Nothing standing between him and his immediate desire had ever held any value for that man. He stood by his first impressions, and given the chance would likely be as happy to kill the man he had dubbed “the little king” as he was to clandestinely renounce his ties to the actual crown. Which wasn’t to say that he was wrong in his assessment of Hewlett, but he wasn’t correct either. The major, for his part, seemed content to believe in pleasant charades. At the very least, he kept up a pretense of it. In part, Anna suspected that was exactly what he was doing now. But every few minutes, regardless of what heartless argument he was trying to sell, Hewlett would stare at her wound. Concerned. Remorseful. Even if it was just for a moment, she read it all over him. If Hewlett had any suspicion of Abe whatsoever, he just wasn’t a good enough actor to hide it. But then, neither was she. Anna fear it was just a matter of time before one of them would slip.

She tried to take another visual assessment of the major, to see if his expression betrayed any hidden motives. He seemed mildly annoyed at her heightened attention, mildly embarrassed, but she couldn’t recognize anything else.

“What is it?” he finally asked. He turned to check his reflection in the window, quickly trying to straighten his powdered wig despite the fact that it wasn’t sitting askew. An hour ago it would have been adorable, but Anna suddenly felt a flash of resentment at watching his vanity on display.

_Little king, little fool._

“Mrs. Strong?”

Anna still couldn’t translate her feelings to words in any meaningful way.

“Mrs. Strong, you do realize that I could have you incarcerated for withholding evidence.”

“I do.”

“Maybe…it is possible that I am approaching this from the wrong angle,” he thought aloud.

“Mrs. Strong, I understand that you believe in your fight against tyranny, but isn’t this itself a despotic abuse of power? Whoever you are protecting has you so deadlocked in fear for _my_ life, of all ridiculous notions, that you are forced to gamble with Mr. Woodhull’s. Tell me what I’m fighting. Tell me where. Have you ever known me to move without fully considering my actions?”

Hewlett had a point. Abe had transitioned from reckless to relentless. He did have her at a stand-still.

“It is a trap for _you_ , Major Hewlett. I don’t think _Abe_ is in any real danger.”

“How will you honestly be able to live with yourself if you take a chance like that and you’re wrong?”

“Perhaps a lot better than I could if I simply enabled you to walk into it! I’ll go. I’ll sort this.”

“Well, that is…” the major started. Anna waited. And waited. “I, sorry, um, what I mean to say is – it is completely mutual, that sentiment. I cannot knowingly allow … you really do care, don’t you?”

Was it her volume? Her tone? What had caught him so completely off guard?

“Anna, forgive me, this may not be appropriate under these circumstances, under any circumstances really, but…”

“What is it?”

“It’s mutual. It’s better if we just leave it there.”

“Major, I appreciate your concern for me, but if this is, as you yourself predict, a crime committed by one of my contacts, believe me –please!- we would do nothing to hurt our own.”

“And where does that leave Mr. Woodhull, Anna?”

_No, no. Anna how could you?!?_ She couldn’t breathe. Had she really just shown her hand? _One vague allusion of affection from Edmond Hewlett, and-! How the fuck did I walk into that one? And why the hell am I even surprised?_ She saw the major’s features soften as she started shaking. When she realized that she would be unable to steady herself, Anna tilted her head upward, determined not to let the tears forming in her eyes fall from them. She felt his hand atop hers. _Stop, stop, stop! You’ve already won, no need to salt the wound._

“That is why we must act swiftly! Thank God you see it too. I am so, so very sorry to be putting you through this, believe me if I had been able to find any way around it, I would never…” he trailed off.

_I can still win._

Anna looked down. Major Hewlett wasn’t holding her hand, he was taking her pulse. Of course he was. She wondered if every time their hands had grazed he had been attempting to read her.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Forgive my bluntness Mrs. Strong but that is out of the question.”

“Why?” she asked flatly.

Hewlett leaned back and shook his head in disbelief. She heard him mutter something about how dense she was being.

“Pardon?” she pressed.

“Mrs. Strong, are your reasoning skills truly so wanting? Though I do suppose that might explain your political leanings ... I – I apologize but I truly cannot accept that upon hearing my repeated overtures of friendship, protection, _asylum_ ,” he paused, collecting himself, “how could you even imagine that I would risk-”, he rubbed his temples and, unable to complete his original though, simply finished “Anna, no.”

_DON’T YOU DARE FALL FOR IT!_ Anna screamed at herself internally.

“Mutual feelings, Major. If you insist on going to your death, I insist on being there to try and prevent it.”

“Anna, this isn’t meant to be insulting but what benefit could you possibly bring to negotiating a hostage situation? Worse, if this is as clever of a trap as you imagine it to be, how do you expect me to protect two civilians?”

_It’s not a clever trap. It’s Abe hiding in his basement with a gun. And he won’t shoot_ me.

“You won’t have to protect me.”

_Or Abe, for that matter._

“I won’t even consider taking that chance.”

Anna suddenly felt enraged. Major Hewlett had used the pretense of friendship to spy on her, used the intelligence he’d gathered to blackmail her, used her confession in an attempt to destroy her world view, and continued to insult her to her face with his falsified sentiments. She was worried about him when she should have been worried about the survival of the cause. She should allow him to wonder alone into Abe’s death trap. But … what if he missed? Anna had seen Abe duel before and her confidence was lacking. She could think of no less than a thousand different horrible scenarios that could play out. What if he succeeded? She dare not even think on it. But she suddenly couldn’t stop.

“I won’t lose you again! I can’t. I can’t. I imagine, as always, that you think your being chivalrous, but your not. It was hell here without you. Not being able to do anything to aid in your escape. Begging and bargaining with everyone from my General Washington to your Admiral Howe to Judge Woodhull to Ben Tallmadge to that fucking demon Simcoe. Shit Edmond, I would have sold my soul to the devil himself to have you back in one piece.”

He didn’t allow a moment’s hesitation before responding in turn.

“And what do you imagine it was like for me? I can’t sleep. I still can’t fucking sleep! I lay awake at night and see you at a table with a gun to your head and feel my limbs tied and cold and numb and empty and I can’t escape at all and my only thought is that I have to just in order to make sure you are alright.” Hewlett said in a single breath.

He studied her for a few seconds before he felt compelled to add, “Forgive my lapse in composure, Mrs. Strong. I fear I may have –“

“Is that true?”

Hewlett didn’t answer.

Anna stood up, lifted the hem of her dress and removed the gun she had hidden in her garter, lying it on the table.

“I was helpless to act then. I’m not anymore. You needn’t worry for my protection. If you truly insist on coming with me-”

“Dear God.” Hewlett gasped as he examined it. “Anna, where on earth did you find this?”

Anna considered her response. Why did she think that would be at all comforting? Why did she think it required no explanation? What had this war done to her? It was possible that Hewlett recognized the weapon as having been stolen from the man it had murdered. If he did, what could she possibly say in her defense?

“I fear that I will be made to confess to something you would rather not hear if you press me, Major Hewlett.”

“In this case I am afraid I must insist.” he replied without inflection.

Anna took a deep breath. “I was attacked by two of Simcoe’s men. That is to say, they had been following me. Maybe Captain Simcoe’s obsession stems from the same suspicion as your own, who can say really.” She knew she was rambling. “At any rate, they ambushed us.”

“Us?”

“Me.” It was too late. “Me and Abe.”

“What were you doing?”

“We met on the road as I was coming home from work.”

The major gestured for her to continue.

“We were attacked before we even noticed their presence. The one tried to force himself on me while the other held Abe down and made him watch. I was on my knees, I saw the gun in its holster, grabbed it and shot the two men point blank. Afterwards, we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t want the Ranger’s to find their comrades in that state, lest they think to retaliate on the wrong forces, so we dragged their corpses into the sound and agreed to never speak of it.”

It wasn’t the full truth, but it was as close enough a rendition as she could give with any sincerity that wouldn’t directly incriminate Abe and Caleb. Granted, Abe could still be tried as an accessory, but he had enough connections to avoid consequence.

She tried to meet Hewlett’s eyes, but they seemed to be gazing off in no direction in particular. He wore absolutely no expression. The major didn’t respond for a long time. Finally, he asked her to repeat herself and she obliged, in the same language she had used previously.

“I’ll need you to give a statement before the magistrate of course, so that it may be notarized.” He didn’t seem to be speaking to her anymore. He excused himself from the room in the politest of manners and stepped out of the front door, leaving his cloak and overcoat on the stool where they lay.

Anna wasn’t certain what she was meant to do. It had been a long time since she had seen Hewlett so despondent. Even throughout the course of the interrogation he had managed to hold himself with an air of dignity. Perhaps her latest attempt to control the situation had finally made it clear to Hewlett that he couldn’t hope to cover up her crimes, or stop her from repeating them, should he survive the night. Perhaps he was as afraid for his life and career as she should have been for hers. She followed him quietly to the door and stood behind it to allow him some privacy. She had intended to reassure Hewlett, but she could hear him coughing up the contents of his stomach on the step. She gave him a few minutes to collect himself before going outside to see if he was alright.

“Me?” he asked, his cheeks damp. Clearly, the answer was no.

He pushed her, ever so gently, back inside. “I should ask you … I should have asked, I should have done more. I should have seen … Dear God. This really explains everything. The distance between yourself and Mr. Woodhull of late, his rather curios behavior. Do you …” he shook his head, “do you know what I was starting to think?”

“What then?” she asked, though she had her assumptions.

“It’s positively nonsense. I’m so sorry Anna, I, why didn’t you tell me?”

_That’s what I had to confess to save Abe from suspicion?_

The shift in the major’s demeanor gave Anna pause.

“And risk bringing the war to Setauket? Major, whatever you’re thinking, I am alright.”

“Still, what a dreadful experience to be put through. Both of you. I ought to have been doing more –and that explains why you’re so scared, why you doubt my intentions. I’ve failed you completely.”

“Edmond! Nothing happened, not to me.”

“Perhaps not physically, it’s enough that you were even put in such a situation. A lady, forced to kill or submit to such disgrace … and in front of a truly innocent bystander no less, forced to conceal such evil do to my own … and what I envisioned … I’m so, so deeply sorry. I’ll try harder I’ll -”

_He isn’t thinking._

“Edmond, this is in no way your fault, I only meant that I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He looked at the gun on the table. Anna watched him stand in silence without so much as blinking for what felt like an eternity. When he spoke again he had resumed all of his usual composure but evidently none of his reason.

“Pick it up and point it at me.”

“You want me to point a gun at you?”

“Show me how you handle it.”

Anna obliged.

“No. No, not like that. Is that how you fired it before? Here, may I?”

She tried to hand him the gun, but he looked at her arm and pinched near her elbow. She flinched.

“You had a bruise there, didn’t you?”

Anna nodded.

“It’s due to backlash. Here.” He adjusted the weapon in her hand and coming up behind her showed her how to aim. She felt his body against hers, still cold from the night’s air.

“Steady.” he cautioned.

“Why are you doing this? Why help a confessed sp-”

“Why? Because I’m sorry alone will never be enough. And, if you really insist on assisting in what very well may be my penultimate act as commander of this garrison, I need to make sure I’ve made all feasible preparations for your safety.”

She turned around to face him. “Penultimate?”

“Next to last, it has its roots in Vatican Latin-” he stopped to return her clumsy smile before answering the question the way she had meant it. “Or, Anna, in other words, I’m done waiting for Simcoe to spiral. When we return to Whitehall I will see that man removed from his command post.”

“How?”

“If you are able to provide testimony, I will seek to prove that under his leadership the Queen’s Rangers are out of control and dangerous to the entire war effort. If that is too much to ask, and I don’t pretend to know what you must be feeling, I swear I will find another means to this end.”

Abe hadn’t asked her if she was alright since the incident. Selah, jealous of any man who so much as looked at her, would have blamed Anna for it even having took place. And Hewlett spoke as if he would give his life to avenge her, though she had survived with her honor and pride intact. Anna wonder if she was in fact unscathed. She had survived worse trauma, of course. She'd gotten through life pretending that nothing could impact her, and at times it truly seemed that she was made of stone. Inside she periodically felt empty or empowered, sometimes simultaneously; mostly she couldn’t put her finger on why and mostly she ignored her impulses to even think on the matter.

Hewlett seemed to consider everything in relation to her. It was both comforting and disconcerting. But now she felt she owed him some form of thanks for his regard.

“I’ll help you in any way I can.”

_Provided it doesn’t interfere with my fight for freedom. But I think you know that._

Anna suddenly felt the weight of the weapon in her injured right hand and placed it back on the table. She picked up the quill and the ransom note clearly written by Abe's own hand. Turning it over to the back she asked “May I?”

“By all means.”

“Do you remember Abe’s old house?”

“I’ve never been there but I recall where it stood.”

“That’s where we need to go.”

“That is scarcely a five minutes’ walk from here, but forgive me – was the building not completely destroyed by the rebels, down to the foundation?”

“The cellar still exists in its entirety.”

“How –“

“In the past I used it as a base to conduct my operations.”

Anna drew a diagram of the room. Hewlett studied it.

“Do you know the exact dimensions?”

Anna didn’t, so she indicated by example.

“I think we are looking at four men at most.” Hewlett sighed and started pacing.

_Nope, just one._

“Mm.” Anna gave a noncommittal response.

“If I am to allow you to come with me -”

“You have absolutely no choice in the matter.”

“If I am to allow you to come with me, Mrs.Strong, you’ll need to follow my instructions explicitly, am I understood?”

Anna committed. Hewlett laid out his plan.

***

After cleaning up the table as the major had instructed her to do, Anna found herself outside arm in arm with Hewlett, wearing the major’s red overcoat, an added protection he thought she might need. It was thicker and heavier than she would have imagined, her discomfort in the garment was not purely psychological.

“Are you not cold, Major?”

“Most of the body’s heat escapes through the head.” He smiled, indicating to his powdered wig. “Rather practical, isn’t it?”

She smiled back, taking in his full appearance. Before giving her to coat, he’d insisted on borrowing her bag in order to store his paperwork. He wore it over his shoulder and under his cloak, gripping it so tightly in his left hand that Anna worried about his fingernails leaving an impression in the leather.

“What will people think if they see us?” she asked.

Hewlett looked up at the stars. He thought for a moment before he answered, “I am sure they would come to the same laughable assumptions they would had they seen nothing at all.”

Anna didn’t respond until they stopped a few yards from the burnt support beams that marked their destination. “Before we go in, there is something you should know.”

Hewlett stopped. “I have something to confess as well I’m afraid.”

“Edmond, in spite of who I am, what I am, what I believe and how that all fully contradicts with everything that you are or pretend to be, I –“

He put a finger to her lips.

“Please Anna. If this be the trap you imagine, do not let me die with this sin on my head.”

It hurt.

“Anna, if anything should go wrong, there is something you need to do.”

“I know, you were quite clear.”

“Run,” He told her again.

“Don’t look back.” she finished.

“Ah – well, actually it is a bit more involved than just that, you see. You need to go directly to the arsenal. Captain Wakefield is waiting there with two sets of instructions, you need to tell him RB127. He will know what it means. Can you repeat that?”

Anna stared at him blankly.

“Please Anna, your future could be at serious risk if you don’t.”

“RB127.”

“Again.”

“What does it mean?”

“Among the various other instructions I’ve laid out it will tell him to burn the arrest warrant I’ve left him in the instructions he is to open if I do not return by Friday at dawn.”

Anna’s eyes widened, though she wasn’t sure exactly which part of this surprised her.

“Again.” Major Hewlett demanded.

“RB127.”

“Remember to stay behind me. When I enter, wait about twenty seconds to allow me enough time to check the space behind the stairwell. When I have determined it is secure I will give the signal, if nothing is forthcoming, you need to leave immediately. If –“ He continued, but Anna was no longer listening.

This was not the way the operation would commence. The little despot would not die tonight. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

_Forgive me this too, friend._

He was caught off guard and the moment of shock gave her enough time to run towards the cellar’s entrance. She heard Hewlett crying furiously after her. It didn’t cause her any hesitation. She raced into the Culper Ring’s makeshift command center, ready to defeat the friend who was posing as an enemy in the name of the enemy who had been posing as a friend.

But Anna would soon realize that her paranoia surrounding Abe Woodhull had been as dangerously misplaced as Hewlett’s love for him.

Once inside, Anna’s screams muted the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty heavy. Poor Hewlett must be reeling. Unfortunately we won’t get to see the internal aftermath of the end of this stage of his inquisition anytime soon. The next (at least two) chapters will be outsider POVs. Got a guess at who is next?
> 
> I know I leave you guys with a cliffhanger at the end of basically every chapter which turns into nothing in the first line of the following, but I promise you, next week’s update will break that trend.  
> (Not of cliffhangers, love those, but this time the consequences are real and lasting.)
> 
> Notes: Vatican Latin is just non-classical Latin. The word I used is anglicized from paenultimus.  
> (And just a quick related personal rant, I was made to take eight years of Latin because my parents wanted me to go into the sciences. I did willingly –physics- but I feel like I just translate ideas into numbers instead of using Latin for anything. Which is probably for the better, I really hated that class. Anyway, be strong little rebels! Don’t let anyone dictate your educational path for you.)
> 
> RB127 has absolutely no meaning, (unless you happen to be in Rhineland-Palatinate, and when then hit me up :) basically I just needed a code. (It will reappear later on.)
> 
> The title of this chapter is a play on a song from the musical Hamilton that I've had in my head for a few days.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading. :* You guys are beautiful. 
> 
> Up next: Man of the hour.


	6. Poseidon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abe recalls the details of his imprisonment as a girl he loves and a guy he resents (at best) attempt to rescue him. During the escape he exchanges a few words with the major and reflects on several of the interpersonal relationships he finds himself in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, it is an Abe POV Chapter. Quick warning, he’s pretty messed up (physically) when our heroes find him, nothing graphic, but hey, given the nature of this story thus far no one really expected to find him in a pile of puppies and kittens, or? Anyway, if you’re not in the mood for injury or allusions to acts of violence (or if you just hate Abe in general and are wonder what he is doing as a key figure in an Anna / Hewlett fic) no worries. I’ll leave a cliff notes version in the end notes so you can get the gist if you want to follow the story without committing to all of it. Otherwise, enjoy.

Abraham Woodhull felt himself losing control of the carriage as he heard the screech of the wheels on the icy road. Suddenly everything hurt. Suddenly everything went black. The screeching stopped and he was aware of nothing but the taste of blood in his mouth. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

He had awoken from a nightmare only to find himself in a peculiar dream. Namely, he saw a ghost strangling a redcoat.

_Strangling?_

_Suffocating._

And saying something. Abe couldn’t make out what.

There was very little light in the room. A lantern flickered on the bottom step of the cellar stairwell. His cellar. That’s where he was. This was somehow real.

It took him a moment to remember how he had found himself in this situation. As he observed the scene through swollen eyes, he tried to make sense in his current reality.He had been captured and taken prisoner by Robert Rogers. Accused of spying for John Andre by way of Major Hewlett and beaten relentlessly when he was unable to surrender information he didn’t have. Abe still couldn’t quite understand Roger’s decision to take up arms against another alleged British intelligence agent. He did however grasp that the former commander of the Queen’s Rangers was convinced by his performance; enough so that his faith failed to waver even when literally surrounded by contradictory evidence.

Something was wrong. He usually awoke with an unquenchable thirst. That was gone, though his throat was still dry. He felt his eyes slipping. He strained to keep them open, but they didn’t seem have much fight left in them. There was talking, but he couldn’t make sense of the words being spoken. He thought he heard a woman’s cry. Abe surrendered his eyelids to the force of gravity. Nothing good ever seemed to happen when he was conscious anyway.

His memories halted his retreat into another poorly conceived fantasy of home. He tried to reason with them.

_I was jailed for spying for the continentals, then released when Hewlett was able to vouch for me. And … no. I never. Rogers found me after I shot Corporal Easton off of his horse. That is how he must have known of my brief involvement with - Fuck. I ought never to have let Mary and Anna talk me into changing my plans. And now Rogers knows about Culper Jr. At least I can assume Andre doesn’t._

_Or?_

He tried to think back to the letter he was forced to write when he first found himself in his underground cell.

_Was Andre the addressee? It was something to do with an outstanding payment, wasn’t it?_

Given that it might be his only chance of survival, Abe hated that he was struggling to recall the most basic details.

_I was made to write a ransom note for my own release. Rogers was owed money, Andre wouldn’t pay, so he meant to get what he insisted he was owed through extortion._

_From father?_

_No, Hewlett._

Abe wished that didn’t bring as much relief as it did. As soon as his father discovered his pistol was missing and pieced together what Abe had done to land himself in his current situation, he would disown him entirely. He had long stopped fighting for his father’s approval, long stopped longing for his love, but it seemed to tear at him all the same. Mary would fight on his behalf. Anna might as well. But they would both lose. The magistrate seemed to thrive on the suffering of his only living child.

Hewlett, by contrast, was just an idiot.

Hewlett always seemed to find a way of getting whatever he wanted, and he never seemed able to refuse a request when Abe’s fate was involved.

Abe wondered how Rogers would have known this.

Abe questioned if he knew this himself with any degree of certainty.

He didn’t know what day it was. He didn’t know how long he had been in this shallow hell. He was however quite certain that he hadn’t been provided with any form of nourishment since his arrival. Sometimes he drifted off and Anna would tell him that he must keep fighting. Sometimes it was Mary. Sometimes Father, Ben, Caleb, Thomas. Ultimately, it couldn’t have mattered less who he imagined was growing disappointed in him. He knew that he didn’t have much time left. And there was so much more he needed to do to aid the fight for independence! No one could have felt more frustration with Abraham Woodhull than he did with himself.

He opened his eyes reluctantly when he heard another little scream. It was a blur, but the redcoat now seemed to be running toward him.

And then the entire gravity of the situation hit him.

_A redcoat has infiltrated my base._

Abe tried to move but he was tightly bound. The pain he felt from the attempt at exertion gave him a few clues as to what wounds he would likely die from. Everything felt grim until he recognized the way the enemy was touching his face.

_Anna. Anna! Oh thank God._

She said something but he couldn’t focus. He was mildly amused for a moment at the having seen two of his friends dressed as bloody brits within a few weeks of each other. He tried to speak but his mouth was bound. She was quick to untie it, pulling his hair in the process. Somehow that made him feel dizzy.

When he first tried to speak blood and spit came out instead of words.

Anna looked at him with huge eyes. He looked past her to the ghost. No, it was another fake redcoat, albeit one in a less complete costume. He approached. Abe wondered if it was Ben or Caleb and laughed at the thought of either of them parading around in such a foppish wig.

“You have to take that off. You look just like …” _Major Hewlett._

Anna had brought Major Hewlett into the Culper Ring’s headquarters. Though he didn’t know how else he expected the exchange would go down, Abe lost his grasp of reason.

“Abraham” came Hewlett’s crisp little voice that Abe had always personally hated. “I need you to look at me.”

He was loath to comply, instead giving Anna a fixed glare.

_How could you betray the cause like this?_

He felt some conciliation in the idea that Rogers might come back at any moment and kill them both.

_Traitor! How could you!? My life isn’t worth this risk!_

“Abraham.”

He turned to the major, who was now holding the flickering lantern before him. Not because he wanted to, but because the sight of Anna finally showing her true colors was too much to bear.

“Keep your head still. With your eyes, I need you to follow my finger.”

“What?”

“Do you think you can do that?” Abe complied as best he could.

“Now I need you to count backwards from ten.”

Abe did this as well, at stopping at three when he realized there was something wrong with the sound of his voice.

“Two…” the major coaxed.

He felt Anna untying the ropes that bound him. As they loosened he felt that he lacked the strength to sit up on his own. Hewlett put the lantern down in order to offer him support.

“Ah – no. No. Of course nothing is definitive, but I am afraid it really doesn’t. You’ll need to wrap that.”

_Is he talking to Anna or to me or to himself?_

“It is possible that you may have suffered a concussion, Mr. Woodhull. Please, bear with me. We are going to get you out of this place but I first need to determine the best means.”

_Something is defiantly wrong._

Abe felt his heart stop. He grabbed the major’s hand from where it sat on his shoulder and brought it up to his right ear. “Again … please.”

Hewlett spoke. Abe heard nothing.

_No._

Hewlett must have seen the panic in Abe’s face. He moved his hand to Abe’s left ear. “Here, do you see? It will be alright.”

Abe nodded.

“Mrs. Strong! I ask that you remain calm.”

Anna reentered his field of vision.

“Oh God Abraham, what happened? Who did this?”

“Rogers.” It was as much of a warning as it was a fact.

Hewlett showed his disbelief in the answer to Anna’s question by wrinkling his face in such a way that it looked to the world like he was about to sneeze. Even now Abe found it difficult not to laugh. It was nearly impossible to witness with a straight face when he was lying. Apparently that was the case when he was telling the truth as well. He considered that it might have been the one honest word they had, and would, ever exchange.

“Robert Rogers?” Anna clarified.

“Yeah. Him.”

“Mrs. Strong, please refrain from coaxing the witness. Abraham, I will need to get a full statement from you at some point in the coming days. Mrs. Strong, please, help me steady Mr. Woodhull.” Hewlett then ordered her to stay by Abe’s side, help him stand if he was able to do so. They didn’t have much time and he needed to act fast. The major then approached Abe’s –or rather – Mr. Culper’s makeshift desk. Abe tried to react but fell into Anna’s arms.

_What were you thinking?! Have you any notion of what could happen to me, to us, to the ring? For fuck’s sake - DO SOMETHING ANNA!_

“What are you doing? We need to go.” she asked hurriedly.

_Play dumb? You have a gun, shoot him! Where is your heart?_

Hewlett continued to gather all the evidence he would need to bring them both to trail as Anna looked on. Abe could feel her heart racing as his was.

“Shoot him,” he whispered into her ear, “you know it is what we ought to have done from the start.”

“Abe, no, it’s not what you think-”

“Mrs. Strong, I strongly advise you to refrain from speaking.”

Anna answered, but Abe couldn’t make out what she said, his head turned to better hear the major, who seemed to be advising her to seek out the services of a solicitor.

“I’m a solicitor.” Abe offered. It seemed to halt the conversation for a moment as they both stopped to give him a cynical look.

Anna walked over to the desk, dragging Abe with her.

“How much blood do you think he’s lost?”

“Enough that I don’t trust him on a horse.”

Abe saw Anna reaching for the code book.

_Right. Good girl!_

Unfortunately he wasn’t alone in his observation.

“Mrs. Strong.” Major Hewlett took the book from her hand and placed it into the bag he was carrying. “You need to trust me. You need to refrain from interfering with the collection of evidence.”

“Edmond, I thought-”

_Who the fuck is Edmond?_

Hewlett ignored her and addressed Abe directly.

“Mr. Woodhull, are you certain beyond reasonable doubt that Robert Rogers is in the vicinity?”

“Yes – now come on then. We need to get out of here. Why are you both wasting time? Leave this and let’s go!” he coughed.

“We will.” Hewlett assured him, before turning to Anna to hiss something. He cleared the desk. Anna let it happen.

_And people say that_ I _don’t think_.

“Can you recall that code I gave you?” Hewlett prompted. - “RB127.” Anna replied. -“Ah – yes, yes. Good. Quite good. While I assist Mr. Woodhull, I’ll need you to run to the arsenal, as quickly and quietly as you can and repeat it to Captain Wakefield who is standing guard. After he reads my instructions, he will ask for orders. Tell him to have … Reed or Anderson, I’m not quite sure of the time of night but then, well that is rather irrelevant I suppose.”-“To prepare a horse?” - “No. I don’t trust Abraham to balance on an animal without being able to do so on his feet.” He stopped and seemed to examine Abe again before continuing.

“An ensign should prepare a cart and drive it up High Street to Oxen Way, turn left, go to where the road ends and wait. He will need to carry his rifle.”- “But that would require you to travel through the woods.”- “Barely. It cuts the trip in half and I neither trust Abraham’s ability to walk nor mine to carry him for an extended distance.” Anna looked worried.

_You and me both._ Abe thought.

“Can you ride?”

“What?”

“A horse, Mrs. Strong.”

_Not particularly well._ Abe thought.

“Naturally.” She lied.

“I need you to ride all the way to the North End and fetch Dr. Janssen. Explain that it is an emergency and that he needs to gather his medical bag and accompany you to Whitehall.”- “But that is clear across town! Dr. Reynold’s doesn’t live far from the arsenal, would it not be more prudent-”- “Absolutely not. It must be Janssen. Am I quite clear?” Anna nodded. She let go of Abe, who was leaning against the desk. Hewlett asked if he would be alright for a moment, Abe nodded, not quite sure if he would be alright at all.

Hewlett handed the lantern to Anna and walked her to the door. After exiting to make sure the way was clear, he returned and embraced Anna, who to Abe’s utter horror and disgust seemed to allow it.

_Ew. No. Wait. Ha - Fuck yes!!!_

_Serves you right you little shite._

_That’s my girl!_

He saw her take the code book from the bag as she was locked in the enemy officer’s arms.

_Now everything you’ve gathered has been reduced to speculation, Hew. Anna, brilliantly played._

She said something to Abe. He couldn’t hear her from the short distance but he smiled and nodded in response. Anna climbed the steps, as she was about the exit, Hewlett pulled on her cloak. Abe knew they were speaking again. Neither seemed angry. Anna walked over to Abe and put her cloak around him.

“Not really my color.” Abe joked as he felt around for the code book. Anna hugged him and he felt it tucked away within the major’s dress coat, which he still wasn’t clear on why Anna was wearing. She winked at him. He returned the gesture.

Cradling his face she said “God, you’re a mess.” before placing a parting kiss on his cheek. She then returned to Major Hewlett, who checked the path again for her before seeing her off.

Without the lantern, the room was completely blackened. Abe felt himself falling twice as Hewlett helped him to climb the stairs.

* * *

 

Outside the night was cold and still. For a moment everything seemed to stop. Abe forgot where he was. He was nowhere.

“Mr. Woodhull, are you quite alright?” asked the man who was holding him upright.

“Yeah. Quite.”

“We need to keep moving.”

“How?”

“I realized this isn’t exactly comfortable, lean on me as much as you need, we’ve less than a quarter-mile travel. Keep your hood up and you voice down – ”

“I mean how do you know where we are going?”

“Look, do you see there?” Hewlett pointed up. Abe looked but saw nothing but the sky.

“Polaris, also known as the Pole Star or the North Star because of its location near the north celestial pole. It is the only star that never seems to move in the night sky as the hours pass.”

Abe looked. “None of them are moving.”

“Ah well, yes, I suppose that is correct, Mr. Woodhull. The rest of the stars only experience apparent motion, that is to say, as the earth rotates on its axis their position seems to alter. Do you see? A few hours ago the big dipper would have appeared to the east, but now it is in the west. It is rather fascinating in that they appear to be moving backwards from the actual rotational direction of the earth.”

“Can you tell what time it is by looking at the sky then?”

“With a bit of practice.”

“And where you’re going?”

“That too. But -”

“What is it?”

“Where were going, it is actually a short-cut most people know. I am sure you do as well. You’ll remember once you’ve eaten and gotten some proper rest.”

They were making slow progress. Abe felt dizzy and weak. He wanted to stop. He wanted to collapse. But mostly, Abe just wanted to be home with the people he loved but shouldn’t, the people he was meant to love but didn’t, and the people who were meant to love him but wouldn’t. He doubted that he and the major would ever reach their goal.

“So you were joking? About the stars and stuff?”

“No, no, just trying to keep your mind occupied. When you feel up to it I’ll show you my telescope.”

“Yeah, I’d heard something about that.”

“From Mrs. Strong?” Hewlett’s voice grew a bit higher.

“Nah. Mary. She said that she saw you and Anna out there with it though. Not much else. It is just so …”

“So what, Mr. Woodhull?”

Abe couldn’t clarify what he’d meant even to himself. He was mentally exhausted. His legs hurt, his ribs hurt, his head was pounding, and the only thing he was able to hear was _Hewlett_. It was all too much.

“I mean, if it is alright with you, sorry, can we rest for a moment?” He stopped but the major pressed forward.

“When we get to the woods, we will sit for a few minutes. Truth be told I am struggling as well. You are a bit heavier than I had anticipated.”

“You’re a bit shorter.”

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s fair.”

* * *

 

Abe felt relieved once seated. Major Hewlett said he could see the road where they were meant to meet his man. Abe couldn’t see anything, but he believed that Hewlett was either telling him the truth or had some good intention for lying. He wondered if he would have ever liked him, had they met under different circumstances and never spoken about politics. He couldn’t picture it. He hated the uniform Hewlett wore and all it represented, he hated Hewlett’s general demeanor while in full dress – wearing the insignia of his office as if it were a crown. But there was something rather unsettling, something almost worse, about the Hewlett who lived with his family at Whitehall. Abe thought he could have had a better relationship with his father had the son he’d evidently always wanted not shown up one day demanding quarter. He hated that his father, with whom he’d had various conversations over the past decade in which Abe was warned against so much as speaking to Anna Strong, now allowed Hewlett to parade his rival’s daughter in front of him in his own home. He hated that Anna lived at Whitehall because of Hewlett. He hated that she seemed to be in love with him. And although it didn’t make much sense, he hated that Hewlett was not in love with her. She deserved better.

“Mr. Woodhull-”

“I can’t. Honestly. We just stopped. Please. Allow me just a moment.”

“We’ve time, you needn’t stress yourself.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Rescue missions? I’ve been in the armed services for nearly thirty years, Mr. Woodhull.”

“Really? How old were you when you joined?”

“Fourteen. And I didn’t join per say, I just sort of found myself in that situation.”

_No way._

“Crime?” Abe asked, suddenly interested.

“Ah, well, one might put it in such terms but I assure you, Mr. Woodhull, not one of my own doing.”

_Right. Of course not._

“Have you ever though?”

“Ah, well, that may actually surprise you.”

Abe was disappointed when the major declined to elaborate. They spoke for a few minutes; Hewlett would pause to look around, regardless if he thought he heard something or not. He told Abe stories, interesting ones, and asked him a lot of questions in order to keep him as awake and focused as he was ever going to be in this state. It was strangely comforting, which made it instantly disconcerting.

“You can address me as Abe, you know. Basically everyone does.”

“Right, Abraham, forgive me my formalities, it is something of an occupational illness.”

“No, please. People only call me by the full version of my name when they are pissed at me. Abe is really fine.”

“But your father-”

“How has it escaped you that father is always angry with me?” he almost had to laugh.

“I’m quite sure that’s not true.”

“You’re the only one he likes.”

“Not recently, I’m afraid. At any rate, you should know that you are the only thing your father ever seems to talk about.”

_Thanks for the effort, I guess._

“You should know you’re a shit liar.”

“You are as well, Abe.”

_You fool. If you only knew._

They shared a genuine smile.

“As long as your comfortable being on familiar terms, I’m Richard, in private of course.”

“Richard.” Abe repeated. “Yeah, I thought you and Father shared a name.” He paused, “This is kind of a strange thing to ask but, do you know who Edmond is then?”

“Excuse me?” “Anna’s mentioned the name at least twice in front of me, and I thought she meant you.”

“I have no idea, I’m sorry.” He seemed taken aback.

“Mary didn’t know either. Or pretended not to. Fuck, would that be _the_ absolute worst scenario.”

“I’m sorry Abe, I am afraid I don’t follow.”

“Not to be too intrusive, but have you ever been married?”

“Ah, no, no, it’s fine. And, no, to answer your question.”

“I don’t know then. Imagine you had two women, neither of whom you honestly thought you deserved, both of whom you were in love with. Sometimes simultaneously, sometimes one but not the other, sometimes neither at all. And they lived together, and it was hell in and of itself, for you, I mean. But then one day you came home and they were friends and kept secrets from you. And you used to be their biggest secret. But individually. I’m sorry, I’m not thinking, just, you understand?”

“Well, I, I am sorry if you feel as if you are in that oddly specific situation on my account, Abe. I can’t pretend as though I have any experience to draw on by means of relation.”

“Have you never been in love?”

“That is, well, rather too intrusive. But, no, never in any meaningful way. Come on. Let’s stand. The cart should be here soon if Mrs. Strong was successful, and if not we’ve quite a journey ahead.”

 

Abe rose with Hewlett’s help. The pause had done him less good than he would have hoped.

“Why was Anna wearing your coat?” he asked as they again stumbled in the direction of the road.

“She insisted on accompanying me tonight. Please don’t ask for details, but suffice to say that Mrs. Strong was the only person who knew where we were going and was able to use this as leverage against me. I gave her my overcoat due to the strength of its material. If, heaven forbid, shots had been fired, it would have been better than nothing.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t what Abe would have expected, and he didn’t possess enough energy for a strong opinion on Hewlett’s response.

“Out of curiosity, how lucky did we get?” the major asked.

“I really don’t know. Rogers is never there for long. I am never awake for long. I have no estimate.” Abe paused and decided to risk it, “The papers - the ones you took from the table-”

“That is of no concern or interest to you.”

“But Anna-”

“I am sure she was just startled by the state we found you in and wanted to leave as soon as possible.”

“But you weren’t.” It was a challenge.

“I…I was very concerned. But not frightened, per say.”

_Liar. You are afraid of your own shadow. I’ll find out what you know._

 

“Ensign!” Hewlett called. A man called Anderson ran over and helped carry Abe to the bed of a transport wagon. Hewlett declined to leave Abe’s side, which Abe found annoying because he’d intentions of sleeping in the comparatively soft hay.

“No.” Hewlett warned. “You should try to stay alert. We will be back at Whitehall soon. A doctor will see to you.”

Abe closed his eyes and decided to ignore him, turning his head in such a way that all sound was blocked.

_Rather useful. I ought to have Mary switch bedsides with me._ He was unconscious within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summarized:  
> Anna and Hewlett find Abe in his cellar, beaten and bound. It takes Abe a few minutes to establish where he is and who he is with, and once he does instead of being grateful he is rather agitated that his ally has brought an enemy into their shared headquarters.  
> It turns out, once we establish that Abe may be severely impaired (concussion, partial hearing loss), that he was absolutely correct to accept Hewlett’s presence with hesitation. Hewlett takes everything relating to the ring. Abe asks Anna to shoot him, Anna tries to reason with Hewlett, tries to take the most incriminating piece of evidence, but is caught in the act.  
> Hewlett gives her orders to relay to Wakefield. Parting ways, Anna is able to steal back the code book the Culper Ring uses and sneak in into the pocket of the coat she is wearing.  
> Hewlett and Abe limp through the night. On the way Abe reflects on how Hewlett has messed up his relationship with his father, Anna. How Anna deserves better. He finds out that Hewlett has had a longer military career than he expected, and questions if he was forced to enlist due to a criminal conviction. No, not directly, but other criminal activity on behalf of Hew is alluded to, though not elaborated on, to Abe’s disappointment.  
> They exchange familiar names, Abe questions the Richard / Edmond discrepancy, but doesn’t quite put things together before asking about the paperwork Hewlett doesn’t know he’d stolen from Abe. He is not successful in determining what Hewlett knows.  
> Once they reach the wagon sent to bring them to Whitehall Abe passes out.  
> Notes:  
> I needed a transitional chapter to end the first arc and I didn’t want to write it from Anna’s POV (because the poor thing has been put through enough) or Hewlett’s (because you’re just going to have to trust me on this, we’re better off finding out what he was thinking after the fact.) And… the plot provided me with a third option. Sorry for the lack of romance, sorry for the abundance of Abe (Although truth be told I am kind of happy with the way this chapter turned out, and not to spoil anything but a few of the themes we visited will defiantly reappear later on in hopefully more intriguing ways. Like Anna, are you sure you took the right book?;)  
> Next chapter is another guest POV, but we get to hear how other people think about our lovebirds, speculate on what the ---- Hewlett’s endgame is, and it contains probably the best cliffhanger I’ve conceived of thus far.  
> As always, thanks for reading, commenting, leaving kudos and so on. Hope you all have great weekends.  
> Up Next: Captain’s Log


	7. Word on the Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is there to complicate it? You see the way they smile at each other, how they can spend hours talking or staring at each one another quietly, longingly, unaware that they are holding hands.”… Damn, insignificant background character, just read on ahead.
> 
> No seriously though, Hewlett’s second recalls the peculiar meeting that took place on what should have been his lunch break, has a conversation about the nature of his boss’s relationship with a certain Mrs. Strong, reflects on his own brief tenure as acting commander, speculates about what may have brought the major to Setauket in the first place and eventually finds himself at Whitehall where he has a role in a scene that will likely cause anger and confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cliff notes this go around. It is not that long of a chapter, and since the focus isn’t really shifted away from the main Anna / Hewlett story I just don’t feel compelled to include them as I did when I wrote about Abe essentially thinking about himself. We get a bit of background information which will constitute some plot points going forward, and we get to see a bit of what everyday operations are like in Setauket. (Which we don’t really ever get to see in the series … so, fanfic.) If you want to skip the outsider POV, no judgement, but you may want to commit to the last line of dialog for future reference if nothing else.

“I’ve seen that dog eat its own shit.” Captain Wakefield muttered as the stray, whimpering, turned its head away from his wife’s pork chop and scrambled off into the night.

“Hm?” Ensign Anderson responded.

“Trying and failing to hide evidence.” he said helplessly as he held out what should have been his dinner.

“Should I have a go at it then?” Wakefield handed over the cold, hardened piece of meat to his underling, grimacing as he watched Anderson try to take a bite.

“I’m not writing you sick leave if you swallow.” he warned, but the look on his subordinate’s face told him there was very little risk of that. After spitting it out, the ensign suggested that they simply add it to the arsenal’s inventory.

“If I give that report to Hewlett there is chance that we would risk his failing to request the ammunition we so desperately need,” he paused then added in a more serious tone, “again.”

“A’ight. Cheers to that. Hey … you don’t know why Major’s gone ‘nd changed the duty roster, or?”

“He wasn’t explicit.”

“Man I had plans tonight. You know Miss Eliza Greene?”

“I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“Ahh this was two months in the works. I was going to take her to the tavern and –“

“Tavern closed at six.”

“Not the tavern part I was concerned with.” he laughed.

“Don’t harass the locals, Ensign.”

“Is that and order, sir?”

“It’s a firm suggestion, we’ll leave it there.”

Wakefield had been in a similar situation five years prior. Now he had a wife and two daughters in a home they shared with her parents out of necessity. His recent promotion hadn’t come with much of a pay raise, though his responsibilities had mounted. He looked back at Anderson, who was gazing up at the heavens no doubt dreaming of his own farmer’s daughter, still holding Charlotte’s weak attempt at food. He smiled thinking of the conversation he would have when he returned home, his wife asking if he liked his dinner, responding it was the best he’d ever have and exchanging a knowing look with his father in-law that said otherwise before the women would inevitably try to test whatever new theories they had come up with to explain is ordered absence at supper-time.

He suddenly grew annoyed that he too was starting to mentally engage in some speculation, annoyed still further that although the answer everyone sought from him lay in his breast pocket, he himself would have no real idea as to its contents until Friday morning. He hoped that day would never come, at least not in the way his superior officer seemed to have planned for. He imagined the horrid Mrs. Strong demanding answers he didn’t have or couldn’t give. Orders that would inevitably involve him having to coordinate with Judge Woodhull who was never pleasant or John Andre who was, even in correspondence, never present. Observing the starry-eyed ensign, he considered how he would be able to tell a bunch of boys that their commander would likely never return. He wished he was home in bed, dreading running drills in the morning after having forced himself to eat a large helping of scorched meat in the interest of domestic bliss. Not as he was, standing in the cold, waiting for someone to come out of the night and tell him a code he’d not committed to memory.

Nothing about this seemed right. The rebel outpost had been destroyed, Simcoe and his men were away on deployment, and inventory had just been taken not a day prior. Wakefield couldn’t envision the arsenal having any immediate risk that would require a heightened guard in the middle of the night.

“I’m going to make a round, alright?” Anderson asked.

“No. Hewlett ordered a two man presence and I mean to obey.”

“But it is normal to make rounds during a watch. You think he knows that?” the ensign sounded, as Wakefield felt, rather skeptical. “It is always-” Anderson took a deep breath and straighten his posture, “ah - yes well I believe the best course of action in this, and every, particular situation is to simply stand around and wait for nothing to happen.” he continue in his best Hewlett impersonation.

Wakefield fought his urge to smile.

There was a rustling. They both heard it.

The captain motioned for his ensign to keep quiet but after a moment the younger man started up again. “That is it right, we’re meant to protect our pellets and powder from the wind! Shit, you think us up to it? I’ve half a mind to wake the entire garris-” he stopped. The world seemed to. “What’s that?”

Something, or rather, someone was charging toward them.

“Stand ready.” the captain ordered.

* * *

 

Major Hewlett never took lunch when he received the post in the morning. Today it had come just before midday, and true to from his commanding officer had turned down Wakefield’s invitation to visit the tavern. Hewlett would likely have done so even if he didn’t imagine himself as having pressing measures at hand, so the Captain initially shook it off and went to dine alone. He had been halfway through consuming a bird, over-salted just as everything else on the menu had been in order to necessitate drinking, when a young soldier had been sent to fetch him. Hewlett apologized profusely, which was also his nature, for interrupting the captain’s meal-time. Wakefield found this kind of behavior far below his major’s rank but nodded his acceptance.

“Won’t you sit for a moment?” Hewlett invited in a newly authoritative tone which Wakefield welcomed.

“Sir.” he replied, talking a chair.

“Recent events have demanded that I alter the duty roster for the rest of the week. I’ve posted the new schedule, but I need you to make the men aware that there has been a change. Forgive the inconvenience but I am requiring you to take tonight’s shift in its entirety along with Reed, Anderson and Williams at separate intervals.”

The three men Hewlett had selected were reliable, but not especially intelligent. It was an odd choice for him to have made.

“Understood, but sir, may I ask why?”

Hewlett handed him a list along with two sealed letters, each with a code written on them.

“I’m entrusting this to you. I’m not at liberty to elaborate at present but suffice it to say that for the past several months I’ve been part of an operation that extends past the regular duties of my office. Tonight I mean to see it through to completion.”

“Should I prepare a guard, sir?”

“I don’t anticipate that will be necessary.” He paused to allow Wakefield to read the list in its entirety.

“May I speak freely, sir?”

“Provided that you ask no questions and provide no unwarranted commentary.”

But Wakefield couldn’t resist. “I strongly recommend, wherever you are going, that you bring back up.”

“Captain, I strongly recommend that you refrain from speaking out of turn. I need to continue to trust that you can follow orders. I don’t need another disappointment.” The major seemed stressed, his brisk pace of speech betraying the worry his words denied.

“Sir-”

Hewlett held up his finger. “I don’t mean this to be offensive, truth be told it is among my favorite traits in you, but you have one of the weakest imaginations of any man I have ever encountered. That said, I know that you tried to access my service record while I was-” without finishing his original thought, Major Hewlett continued, “I trust that given what you discovered even _you_ can attempt to fill in the blanks.”

The captain’s eyes widened. _Is that why you don’t trust me?_

He knew that he had overstepped his boundaries, but it had not been done in malice. He felt the need to defend his actions.

“It was only, in the case that you should not return, I sought a home address.”

“Did you find one?”

“The street you left in London, it’s” Hewlett gave him a warning look. “No, sir. I found nothing.”

“To return to the topic at hand, Captain, you are to open the instructions marked CS404A at dawn on Friday should you not see me before then. Not a moment before. I’ve left detailed orders on what you are to carry out should I fail in my mission. If you are approached before that appointed time by anyone who gives you the code RB127, you are to open the corresponding set of instructions and follow them in full. Now, please, when the men return from their break I need you to explain that there has been a change in the order of operations and afterwards, do take the rest of the afternoon off. Get some rest. I’ll need you at your best in the days to come. You are dismissed.”

Hewlett gave a half-smile that was meant to be encouraging. Without returning it, Wakefield rose to salute him. Hewlett rose as well and saw him to the door.

“What will you do now, sir?”

“Work out the rest of my shift naturally.” the major replied as if any other answer would have in fact been ridiculous.

“It’s been a pleasure, sir.”

“And will continue to be.”

* * *

 

 Mrs. Wakefield wasn’t home when the captain came in. He went up to their room and tried to sleep as he had been ordered to do but found himself unable to comply. He read the list Hewlett had left him again, slight changes to the schedule, additional duties and suggestions on whom they could be delegated to should time restraints require. Two days. Wednesday and Thursday. Two months ago he would have killed for these kinds of instructions. It was far more than he had to go on for the entire month of December, when he was forced to concoct a plan for the foreseeable future of the Setauket Garrison based on the activities he had performed the day that his major was captured by rebels. He had spent every waking moment in private worry that he was doing something wrong, that there was something he was neglecting or missing. His promotion had come little more than 6 months prior, and he was still adjusting to his new position when circumstance forced him to enact Hewlett’s role.

Moral had dropped instantly, intensely. He imagined that for the first time since the start of the war the civilians as well as his fellow soldiers were beginning to question their safety. He had done his best to reassure everyone, but he wasn’t quite up to the task as he imagined no one really could have been. Wakefield had never much cared for Hewlett on a personal level, but his professional absence was noted. He missed Hewlett’s odd style of excessively detail oriented management, he missed telling him to delegate more. He missed Hewlett’s ability to then do so - seemingly effortlessly - when under pressure. He missed the man’s obsession with paperwork – when Wakefield first looked at the amount of administrative forms that seemed to plague the office it made his head spin. He felt he never quite got a handle on it during his entire tenure as acting commander.

No one had really spoken of Hewlett, save for Mrs. Strong, within two weeks of his disappearance. They were all afraid too. Once one of the Queen’s Rangers brought his name up only to be mock-instructed by Simcoe, in his high monotone, that it was wrong to speak ill of the dead. Simcoe had then given Wakefield a creepy little wave and a cold smile. Wakefield remembered the chill he felt at that interaction. It was that thought singularly that stayed with him as he tried to close his eyes that afternoon. He knew he wouldn’t again be up to the task of filling Hewlett’s role should anything befall him. 

* * *

 

Several hours later he was reanimated from his half-sleep by the sound of his young wife’s voice.

“Darling! I didn’t realize you were home, are you quite well?” she asked, suddenly in a flush at seeing him in bed so early in the evening.

“I’ve been awarded a surprise night shift so I was trying to take some rest before hand.”

“Heavens, whatever for? Is there something going around? Has someone else gone missing? I thought with the captaincy you wouldn’t be required to work ‘round the clock.” Her tone went from worried to annoyed as he stared at her blankly.

“I’m required to follow orders. It is just for two nights. Three maybe.”

“That hardly seems fair.” she pouted, taking a seat beside him. Wakefield rose to meet her at eye-level.

“All’s fair in love and war.” he commented without inflection as she laughingly grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at him. They shared a smile before she continued, already readjusting her plans for the coming days to accommodate his.

“What time do you have to leave? I’ve only just started dinner.”

“There is no need to worry yourself. Hewlett always sends along some foodstuffs for the graveyard shift. I’ll eat what they eat. Boost morale. Wouldn’t want them to get too jealous.” he replied, trying to hide his own excitement at the thought of whatever had been served at Whitehall the evening prior.

_There is some good in this at least._

“As if Hewlett would ever eat the scraps he throws his men.” she shook her head. “No matter, I’ll send along something for them as well.”

The captain searched for a diplomatic response.

“I’m sure though your generosity would be appreciated it is not necessary.”

“And let you all to stave on dry bread? I won’t hear of it.”

He gave her a weak look which resulted in her eyeing him suspiciously.

“Why the sudden change in plans?”

“Major wasn’t exactly forthcoming. Never quite is. Only said that he might be gone until Friday morning.”

His wife perked up as he realized with horror that he had just unintentionally opened the conversation to Setauket’s favorite topic. Maybe Hewlett was right, maybe he did need to get some sleep so that he could perform at his best. Absolutely no chance of that now.

“Do you think-” she started in the same animated tone he heard her use with her friends.

“I really don’t.”

“Come now, you must know the major better than anyone at this point.”

“He doesn’t fraternize. He can’t. And even if his security clearance allowed for it _I_ certainly wouldn’t.”

“You must know something! Honestly you are the only person in town who doesn’t keep up with this. This very afternoon I was sitting with Eliza, Beatrice and the two Marys at Betsy Sinclair’s place and she was convinced that she saw Anna Strong-”

_She likely did. Hell, I saw Mrs. Strong twice this morning._ He wasn’t interested and found it hard to fathom why anyone would be. Even if there was a correlation between that woman’s mere presence and any of the rumors circulating about her, there were so many more worthy pursuits of one’s time than blind analysis.

“What business is this of Betsy’s or of yours?”

“This is the most interesting thing that has happened in this town in quite some time.” Charlotte defended.

“There is a war going on.” he responded flatly.

“A rebellion. And not here.”

The captain was not so sure. His wife could read it in his face. She reached for his hand.

“What aren’t you telling me, what has you ever so frustrated?”

“It’s merely speculation. Weak speculation, evidently.” He muttered, remembering Hewlett’s slight. How he wished that man would place more faith in him. “It is only, it is very unlike our major to suddenly change course. Can I trust you now to repeat this to your sewing circle?”

“Of course.”

“He plans to leave tonight without an escort, for what he wouldn’t say. I don’t know what to make of the orders he left. The whole thing in and of itself is nothing too unusual, save for the time frame in which it transpired.”

“You’re worried.”

“No. Only, he usually gives more notice. It is just odd.”

“Did he seem nervous?”

“Doesn’t he always?”

“True.” She smacked her lips.

“You needn’t worry yourself, love. It could be routine and I’ve just not had the time to adjust yet.”

“Do you think it has something to do with Easton?”

It could. The escort Hewlett sent with his spy had been found murdered a few days prior, robbed of all of his belongings, including the younger Mr. Woodhull’s report. Wakefield had no idea what the report contained, but he did know that it had been of great importance to his major. However, the reality of the corpse seemed to suggest that the change in plans had little or nothing to do with the deceased corporal. Hewlett’s stay in prison had worsened his paranoia to a point where he scarcely left his quarters without an armed escort. Wakefield could not conceive that the major would elect to go anywhere alone if he felt himself threatened in any way.

“If so then not directly. Like I said, it could be routine.”

“If it was, don’t you think he would have been more open with his intentions?”

_Of course not._

“Forgive me, I oughtn’t to have lead you to worry. Hewlett is a bit strange. He always has been. This will doubtlessly prove to be related to one of his embarrassing eccentricities. Nothing more.”

“Perhaps he has plans to elope.”

_Not this shit again._ Wakefield had only worked a half day and had already heard his fill of it there. He couldn’t understand for the life of him how so many people seemed to be able to cast the major in the role of an archetypical romantic hero. _Am I truly the only person in this town to ever have carried on a conversation with the man? Elope?!_

The captain laughed. “What? With whom them?”

“Why, Anna Strong of course.”

“No.”

“We were talking about it just this afternoon. If you’re asking why it is my business, honestly Gerald, we all know that it is only a matter of time and we ladies have a little bet going on between us.”

The captain raised his eyebrows. He was not a gambling man.

“No, no, nothing like that, it is only, when they do make their commitment to each other public, we will have an obligation to invite Anna back into our circle. Whoever’s guess is furthest from the actual announcement will have to host her first. I personally say it will be before the frost melts, Mary Cooper thinks by summer and Mary Woodhull said that the Lord God would never be so gracious as to show her such favor. Make of that what you will. Eliza said last Christmas but obviously-”

“Have you really no better use of your time?”

“It’s a small town.”

“I hope you don’t place too much value on this, I can all but guarantee that nothing will ever happen between those two.”

“Because Anna is a patriot?” she whispered as she leaned in, her eyes widening.

“What? Where is this coming from?”

“People talk.” His wife gave him a wicked litte smile. Wakefield had had enough.

_Time to put this to rest. For the hundredth time. Today alone._

“No, no and no. Hewlett is career-minded and he would never risk impeding his own advancement by tying himself to the _wife_ of an alleged rebel.”

“Hm?”

“I was there when Selah Strong got into the brawl that landed him on The Jersey and I just don’t think he was actively engaged to that time in any illicit undertakings. To that point, we address Mrs. Strong with a certain honorific to denote her marital status. Hewlett isn’t one to take a mistress.”

“Except that in the eyes of the law she is free to marry. Mary Woodhull explained it. Hewlett had the magistrate look into granting her a divorce.”

“Which she wasn’t able to obtain. He already explained this.”

“See? You two do fraternize.”

“Only over fully irrelevant topics. Weather, stock prices, legal matters of no significance.”

“Alright, but he explained it wrong, or maybe he understood wrong.”

_Doubtful_ the captain thought as his wife continued;

“Anna wasn’t able to obtain a divorce because according to the state Selah Strong is dead. This is something that is nearly impossible to overturn in peacetime and unthinkable here given that if Mr. Strong somehow did get a court date he would be arrested on the spot, tried and hanged. So legally speaking, Anna is a widow.”

“I think that is an over-simplification.”

“What is there to complicate it? You see the way they smile at each other, how they can spend hours talking or staring at one another quietly, longingly, unaware that they are holding hands.”

“Have you ever had an extended conversation with either of them? They are likely both just trying to escape each other’s presence.”

“Explain.”

“Alright. Anna is simply mad and given to anger. She needs to be placated. Smile and nod. Whatever it is, if you don’t give her any ammunition she will let it go. Eventually. You know this. I know this. Our dear major has likely figured it out as well.”

Charlotte nodded.

“Hewlett on the other hand, if ever he feels comfortable enough around you to do so, likes to lecture, _lives_ for it in fact. Not in a useful ‘I have some tips for improvement’ manner, but, how should I put it… How familiar are you with the sciences? The man is socially inept. Will spend the better part of an hour explaining how Newton created calculus to explain physics, which numerous examples of theories you have little working knowledge of and if you look confused at any point he will stumble and stutter into an etymology lecture which ventures into philosophy or who knows. Just smile until he is finished, it makes the whole experience shorter and less painful. I am sure that is what Anna is up to.”

Wakefield rolled his eyes. Hewlett was easily the vainest and most pretentious person he’d ever met.

Charlotte looked taken aback. “I really would have never guessed. Are you making that up?”

_Oh, how I wish._

“Guy received a full scholarship to Oxford about fifteen years ago. Didn’t take it.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Crippling fear of failure? Social anxiety? Desire to serve his majesty in the new world by boring the continentals into submission? Still likes to brag about it though. I’ve even seen the letter of acceptance.”

Captain Wakefield had however developed another theory after his unsuccessful search through Hewlett’s personnel file for a permanent residence. It was possible that his major had been part of a government investigation of a number of leading scientists and research professors, and was prevented from further study after being pulled from the project. After collecting his mail it seemed equally as likely that he was still to some degree involved. There was no direct mention of such an assignment in his service record, but the fact that he seemed to have spent the majority of his career working as a secretary in the capitol whilst obtaining and having the available funds to purchase a series of quick promotions spoke to the captain’s idea that Hewlett was involved in something that supplemented his service. Perhaps the same thing that prevented him from scholarship.

Or the same thing that may have landed him in New York.

Hewlett’s record was largely empty, his security clearance unusually high. He didn’t seem to have any field experience relevant to his current post. Unless, Wakefield thought, the garrison itself was of even less strategic importance than everyone, including himself, believed. He had heard of a patriot spy ring operating from within Setauket, sometimes he questioned if their position had been dictated by these rumors. It was certainly well known that Washington’s head of intelligence was from the obsolete village. It would also explain why restocking of supplies seemed so difficult. Yet, in the years he had spent as commander of the garrison, the major had never once broached the topic with his men. It could well have been that the stories were all hearsay, but Hewlett was overly suspicious and Wakefield couldn’t imagine him simply ignoring them. Either there was no problem or the problem was so involved they were all playing a role and didn’t know it. It wasn’t his to judge though. There were perks to proving you could be easily manipulated or bought by the major, and Wakefield wasn’t going to let that be jeopardized.

“I think you’re mistaken.” his wife said after a moment’s pause.

“About Oxford? Ask him. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“No, about Anna and Major Hewlett. They just seem so drawn to each other.”

“It could be that they are both just deeply lonely people. Invite Mrs. Strong back into your circle, see how interested she is in Hewlett then.”

His wife laughed. “Oh! Good heavens! No, never. I don’t dislike Anna per say, but that would be social suicide.”

“My case in point.”

Wakefield was happy that the conversation ended there. He would have to remember that tactic for the future, every time someone brought up the pair in his presence he would simply have to tell them to engage socially with Mrs. Strong. He wondered if this would work around the office, where the men had their own sorts of betting pools about the nature of their commander’s relationship with a young woman he had kindly brought under his protection.

* * *

 

“Would you look at that?” Anderson smirked as he lowered his weapon following Wakefield’s order. “Maybe now _you_ can be the one asking _Mrs. Strong_ ‘has there been any news regarding Major Hewlett?’”

Wakefield ignored him as he approached the young woman who had stopped before them, heaving as she tried to speak. He did his best not to mirror her alarm. How long had she been running? How far? And what from? She was wearing part of his boss’s uniform. Instinctively, he assessed it for disrepair. He detected nothing, but it did little to ease his concern. He stared at her with a stone face.

“RB127!” Anna gasped, repeating the code at least 5 times while the captain retrieved the letter. It was the thinner of the two he had been given. He read it twice before responding as the ensign tried to calm Mrs. Strong.

_Mrs. Strong_ , to whom Hewlett had just given temporary partial command of his troops.

Wakefield asked Anderson to bring him a torch which he used to burn the other set of instructions as he had been ordered before addressing the civilian woman wearing his boss’s dress coat and a panicked expression.

“What are my orders, ma’am?”

Anna told Anderson to prepare a carriage for transport and gave instructions on where it was to meet Major Hewlett and Abraham Woodhull, the later of whom was badly injured. She was to be provided a horse that she could ride to fetch a doctor.

“Doctor Reynolds?” Wakefield clarified as he helped Anna onto his mare. She nodded a confirmation. It was code, one Mrs. Strong was likely unaware of. Something had happened that needed to be covered up and Reynold’s silence was available for purchase. He knew without having to be told that his presence would likely be required at Whitehall at the earliest possible convenience. 

* * *

 

An hour or so later Anderson returned with the awaited order. He looked odd without his characteristic smile.

“How is Mr. Woodhull?” Wakefield asked. He didn’t care about the magistrate’s son, it was the current state of his subordinate which concerned him.

“Major Hewlett says I’m not to discuss his condition.” The ensign responded, clearly shaken.

After offering a few sentiments of encouragement, Wakefield proceeded to Whitehall by foot. When he arrived a quarter hour later the door was opened for him by two guards stationed there. Dawn was breaking, they had just come on duty and had no idea what was happening inside.

He entered a foyer of solemn faces. The judge greeted him with a nod of acknowledgement and a gruff nasal sound. Mrs. Strong, still cloaked in the major’s colors, kept her eyes decidedly fixed on the floor beneath her. The captain could hear Mary Woodhull arguing and pleading with Major Hewlett and the poor soul unlucky enough to be standing guard outside of the room he could assume contained Mr. Woodhull.

The front door closed with a light clap. It was enough to halt the conversation upstairs. Hewlett walked out onto the gallery and upon seeing the captain below descended the stairwell at a brisk pace. Brisk for Hewlett at any rate, who still hadn’t quite found his balance after recovering from a self-inflicted pedal injury. The sense of urgency was created more by his expression. Wakefield stood ready.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Captain.” said the major when he reached the entrance hall. Turning to Judge Woodhull he added, “We will need to speak in the study, yourself as well.”

Without replying the judge led the way. When the three men entered the room Woodhull poured a round of scotch. Hewlett continued without tasting it, and so Wakefield felt obliged to follow suit.

“We have every reason to believe that young Mr. Woodhull obtained his injuries in an encounter with Robert Rogers, the former commander of the Queen’s Rangers.”

_-Robert Rogers?-_

Richard Woodhull’s dead stare broke for a moment, as if it was the first time he was hearing this as well.

“A curfew needs to be issued until such time as this claim can be verified and addressed in a manner that doesn’t create widespread alarm. I’m looking to you gentlemen for suggestions.”

“When was this town last subject to a savage attack?” Wakefield asked the judge.

“About six years ago.”

“Still in living memory.” Hewlett remarked quietly. Addressing his captain directly he gave the order to issue a curfew from dusk until dawn on the ground of a reported raid in the vicinity - across the sound perhaps - and praised him for his recommendation. Woodhull countered that the people may feel as if the military hadn’t the means to protect the town’s residents. Wakefield glanced down at his glass and then up again at the two men who seemed to be locked in a staring contest. He could tell the judge had meant for Hewlett to take his comment to heart. The major continued speaking to Wakefield without averting his eyes from his civil liaison.

“I want you to have Riley to run drills in guerilla tactics.”

_A low serviceman?_ He knew he shouldn’t question orders.

“Understood, sir.”

“He served under Simcoe for an extended period.” Hewlett clarified. “He will be more familiar with that … particular flair.”

“Yes sir.”

“Additionally, I want you to allocate four men to search for the bodies of the two missing rangers in and around the sound.”

_Bodies?_ The captain had assumed they had simply deserted.

Hewlett paused and looking to his captain added, “A witness has come forward. At this point we’ve no reason to assume a direct connection with Rogers.” Turning back to the judge he continued, “In the next serval days I’ll need you to record statements and assist me with the related legal proceedings.”

“So this matter is to be tried in a civilian court.” Woodhull swallowed.

_Why does he look taken aback?_

“Ah, yes, I’d imagine so. If need be.”

An eerie silence settled. Wakefield took a sip of his scotch. A knock fell on the door. The judge moved to answer, but Hewlett continued. “There is one additional matter I’d like to address as long as I have you both present. I need to reopen the investigation into the suicide we all recently witnessed. Your honor, please locate the following bodies of legislation for reference at your earliest convenience.” He handed Woodhull a list. The judge raised his brow.

“I’m not quite certain if-” Hewlett stammered.

“Major, as ever I aim serve at your pleasure, but this all has to do with negative misprision.”

Wakefield had no idea what that meant.

“Ah, yes well, if my suspicions are confirmed…” Hewlett trailed off. The judge gave him a nod which seemed to meet his satisfaction. Hewlett returned to issuing orders;

“Captain, I need you to compile every related file, record and report - as well as any statement taken that morning. I’ll need this on my desk by midday.” He then yawned and grew flustered. “Forgive me, gentlemen, I’ve not had any rest in a full day’s time. I will need to take leave this morning.”

The knock came again. Woodhull looked to the door. Hewlett gestured that he was free to answer it. Wakefield saluted and moved to exit as well, but Hewlett told him to stay.

“Captain, before you leave to carry out your orders, there is something else I need you to do.”

* * *

 

A minute later Captain Wakefield and Major Hewlett rejoined Judge Woodhull in the foyer where he was speaking with the doctor about his son’s condition. Mary and Anna were standing nearby, looking guilty and grief-stricken. Wakefield looked at his boss to see if he noted this as well and received a discrete nod of reply.

“In addition, Mr. Woodhull is severely dehydrated and needs to be woken every two hours or so for the next few days and given a glass of water. I also recommend that his salt intake be increased in order to aid retention.” the doctor continued.

“That won’t be any trouble.” Mary volunteered.

“No.” Hewlett agreed. “But I don’t want any of you to involve yourselves. My guard will see to it.”

“Major!” Mary all but shouted. “He is my _husband_. My place is at his side. I am fully capable of caring for him in his hour of need.” They had likely had this conversation before.

“I don’t doubt it, Mrs. Woodhull. But the situation is more complex than you appreciate.”

Judge Woodhull approached the matter from another angle. “Correct me if I am mistaken, Doctor, but my son should, in time, make a full recovery. Neither Mary nor I have designs on impeding that process, so I must inquire, Major, on what grounds is Abraham to be held in what is essentially solitary confinement?”

“Mr. Woodhull will need to be questioned and debriefed regarding the circumstances surrounding his involvement in events which have recently come to light. As soon as he feels up to it I plan to begin. You can rest assured that your son isn’t being accused of any crime.”

“He is still entitled to counsel.”

“And when he is able to provide testimony he shall have it if he so choses. Until then I apologize, truly, but I cannot risk witness contamination.”

Woodhull looked as if he was going to press the matter further but Hewlett had already moved on. Handing the doctor a ten-pound note, he asked him to advise Martin De Young that Anna Strong had contracted something highly contagious and would be unable to resume her shifts at the tavern for the foreseeable future. If anyone should ask, the younger Mr. Woodhull was suffering from the same infliction. The doctor nodded his understanding, and departed shortly after confirming an appointment for a follow up.

As soon as the door had closed, Mrs. Strong began to protest.

“Major Hewlett, what is the meaning of this? Am I being punished? After everything that I risked in assisting you in Abe’s rescue? After-”

“Mrs. Strong, I assure you that I am acting in your own best interest.”

He stared at her openly for just a moment longer than custom would allow. He seemed pained when he looked at Wakefield to give him the go ahead.

“Sir-”

“I’m quite certain.” Hewlett claimed, though his expression begged to differ.

The captain crossed to his target. “Anna Strong, I’m placing you under arrest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God! No! Why Hewlett, why?! I guess we will find out next time.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> With regards to Wakefield being married, I just think it would be strange if no one in Setauket outside the six main characters based there had anything going on in their lives. British officers often did have their wives and lovers with them during the course of the American Revolution, married and/or had affairs with girls from the colonies, and so on. I did some research (i.e. heard this on a “Revolutions” podcast a few years ago).
> 
> The line referencing Newton having created calculus to explain physics – as I am sure you already know this is a bit more involved than how it was stated here. If you’re into having a *really* nerdy conversation though hit me up.
> 
> Negative misprision is a charge for concealing and act of treason.
> 
> Otherwise, thanks to everyone who is still reading! Your time is *beyond* appreciated. (I can’t believe this has gotten 200 hits – it’s is my first ever fanfic so I’m just over here like wow, awesome.) We will get back to more tortured romance in the next update. ;* 
> 
> Up next: Means to and End


	8. My Name is Red[coat]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hewlett gets himself into an argument or two as he tries to mentally process the various implications of the night prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a claim last week that may warrant a retraction. Don’t really think poor Hew comes off as especially likeable in this chapter either. Freaking love Anna though.

“You cannot detain her without a charge. “ Judge Woodhull warned.

Richard Hewlett was beginning to wonder who was truly being held prisoner, Mrs. Strong or himself. His discussion with his liaison over Habeas Corpus was entering its second hour, which meant that the major had, for at least forty minutes now by his own estimate, been struggling with two truths of which he had recently become aware. First, it was unlikely that he would see his bed before he would need to relieve his captain. He tried to excuse the second as simple exhaustion, but the longer Woodhull insisted on keeping it in the forefront of his mind, the clearer it became that insofar as Anna’s safety was concerned, he couldn’t have cared less if he was in violation of the law. Hewlett was thoroughly disgusted with himself. He wondered which of his other ideals he had circumvented in the vain of protecting his unlikely friend. He was beginning to resent her on grounds he knew to be of his own making.

“Understand, Major, this is as much for your own protection as it is for the suspect’s. What accusations are you making against her? I know that you have a high regard for the law as it is written and you know that I am obliged by my office to provide you advice and assistance. If you fail to act, Mrs. Strong could in theory both evade prosecution and have the foundation for a lawsuit against you.” He continued, adding gruffly, “Against both of us if you carry on with your insistence of using my home as a makeshift jail.”

_So that is what troubles you._ Hewlett felt wounded that his dear friend the magistrate sought only for his own protection. Of course, he couldn’t have seen the big picture if he’d wanted too, and Hewlett knew he himself was at fault. But how could he expect win Woodhull’s support for his course of action when he himself was so torn? _For_ your _protection, the less you know, the better._

“Forgive me, your honor, and know that I am in your debt. If Setauket was equipped with a suitable alternative you must know-”

“Pardon the interruption, Major, but we have the stocks.”

“Out of the question.”

“I speak only out of concern for my family.”

Hewlett had longed to be part of a family like the Woodhulls since Richard had first welcomed him to Whitehall. Recently however he’d come to realize that some things exist only from the outside. He sometimes wondered as he sat with them over mealtime and in the evenings if he would be equally as blind to his blessings had fate given him a wife and children. At best, the judge’s family seemed to take one another for granted, at worst seemed to use each other to further their own ends.

_But not today._ Hewlett thought, narrowing his gaze.

“I assure you, there _is_ no risk here.”

“Then will you kindly for my own peace of mind explain _why_ Anna Strong is being kept under lock and key?”

Hewlett had been struggling to come up with an excuse that would satisfy the needs of the courts since Anna had taken the initiative to raid Abe’s cellar alone. He knew he couldn’t trust her to make rational decisions. That was something he felt should have been clear to him before; when he first started suspecting her of having rebel ties, when she confessed to espionage in an attempt to damn him, or when, mere seconds before her near-fatal charge, she attempted to say the words he knew could never exist between them.

Words he’d realized over the course of the evening that he wished to hear and longed to say.

_Why you ask? Because I love her._

The thought sickened him. Hewlett knew she had tried to present him with another falsehood. He wondered exactly how many Anna Strongs the rebels had working as spies throughout the colonies. He wondered if he had been the only officer fool enough to fall into that trap. If Abe had never been kidnapped, exactly how long would he have continued playing games with her? Would he have still been fighting to protect her against herself and the law had they not reached a sort of plea agreement? Should he even honor it?

_Why? Because for reasons I cannot justify to myself, her protection has become, or has long been, a prerogative of mine. Because I believe she can be purged of her dangerous political thoughts, because I am_ entitled _to her salvation. Because I need her help in defeating common threats. Because I simply need_ her _._

Unfortunately, these were not the words he would need to escape the conversation he currently found himself in.

_Ah, but what to admit?_

“Anna was so eager to rescue your son that she put the entire operation at risk.”

“In such a manner that would put her in violation of Article 3 of our empire’s military offence legislation?”

_Evidently I phrased that wrong._

“In such a manner that would if she were enlisted. Correct me if I am mistaken, but I cannot charge a civilian for obstructing orders.”

“You could however charge her with contravening orders. It carries a lesser sentence should she be convicted, though-”

“What would the sentence be?”

“Maximum two years imprisonment as opposed to ten.”

Hewlett rubbed his temples as the judge continued.

“Are there any witnesses?”

“I don’t believe Abraham was entirely conscious when we found him.”

“Assuming that Mrs. Strong, in keeping with her nature, were to plead innocent-”

_Were if that the case…_

“It would be my word against hers.” Hewlett finished.

“Shall I do up the paperwork?”

“Wait – just.”

“Major, I feel as if, given that my son’s life was potentially put at risk, I am being extremely lenient. You realize of course that after a hearing, you would be able to determine her sentence within the confines of the law. In theory you could have her take a simple loyalty oath.”

“But the charge would stay on her record?”

“Indeed.” Woodhull said without inflection. His expression was, however, one of absolute delight.

Hewlett knew in heart that Anna shouldn’t be allowed to escape the hand of the law entirely. He also knew that for the moment it would be more prudent to salvage what was left of their friendship.

_I truly do need her help in defeating common threats._

“I’ll give you my answer by this evening. Anna’s assistance was otherwise instrumental. I – I need some time to consider my response. Forgive me, Judge Woodhull, I am in desperate need of rest before today’s operations commence.”

“Anna…” repeated the judge, evidently noting the familiarity. “Of course, Major, as you see fit. May I however offer you a bit of advice though before you take your leave?”

“I welcome it.”

“You cannot play protector and prosecutor simultaneously.”

_I know._

* * *

 

The water in the wash basin that Aberdeen must have left for him was neither warm enough to lull him to sleep nor cold enough to jolt him into full consciousness. After rinsing off the residue of the day prior, Hewlett laid in bed, waiting for his hair to fully dry before putting on his wig. He could hear Anna pacing in the room adjacent to his. She was otherwise quiet. Whitehall itself was. The major wondered if this was normal for this time of day, after the slaves had finished making beds and had cleared the table of breakfast, when Mary would be in the nursery with Thomas, Richard and Anna likely at work, and Abe doing whatever it was that he did when he wasn’t in some sort of trouble or another. Maybe the quiet was to be attributed to Abe’s current condition, maybe to the sense fear he was certain did not belong to him alone. Anna’s pacing stopped. He wondered if she was sleeping. He wondered if she could. He felt that he ought to comfort her, despite likely being the cause of so many of the troubles that had kept her awake thus far.

But with the implications that Roger’s presence brought to the town, Hewlett doubted he would ever be able to look her in her beautiful eyes again.

He needed _Simcoe_. He needed his Rangers. The latest he’d heard of Rogers, the man had single-handedly murdered five assassins who had been sent for him. From everything else he knew, he didn’t doubt the authenticity of this claim. If the rouge warrior wanted something from Setauket, there was nothing that the regular army could do to stop him. Hewlett imagined approaching Simcoe in humility to ask for his assistance in subduing an enemy against whom the demon was far better matched. _You are a better solider than me, I need you to come save the very town which I’m meant to protect, but I swear if you or any of your men approach or so much as_ look _at Mrs. Strong I’ll kill you all in your sleep._ After a round of gloating Simcoe would demand that Hewlett sell his commission in exchange. If he approached the situation through the normal channels and notified Andre as soon as Abe’s claims were confirmed the result would be the same. Simcoe would finally have the chance to ruin him. And he would be in Setauket. Where Anna had nearly been raped by the men he led.

Hewlett thought about the Queen’s Rangers as a whole. Simcoe had been unable to instill a strong enough sense of military discipline in them to make it possible for them to exist among the population. Was there any guarantee that they wouldn’t simply defect to their former commander?

_No._

_I don’t need Simcoe or his men, I need to come up with a feasible plan of my own._

This of course meant figuring out Rogers’s motive behind kidnapping his spy and trying to ransom him for more money than the major would ever earn in a single lifetime.

Had Rogers turned? Was he now a rebel? Perhaps the elusive Agent 722? Unlikely. Even if he was politically motivated, Hewlett had overheard the rangers speaking of the vendetta their former commander had against Major Tallmadge. If true, it was the sort of thing Hewlett assumed Rogers would not easily overcome.

Then there was the issue of the funds he was demanding. Had Rogers discovered Hewlett’s nearly routine acts of misappropriation and come to the wrong conclusion about his the state of his personal, or of Setauket’s, finances? This was even less likely. The major knew how to keep secrets.

Which left only _Abe_ as a factor. And he wouldn’t know anything more until his former spy awoke.

Hewlett closed his eyes. In spite of his disquiet, he felt himself drifting off. He had told his guard to wake him before noon, or? He wondered how much time he would have to sleep before he would be forced to leave his bed, which due to time constraints felt warmer and more comfortable this morning than it did on most nights.

At some point exhaustion had won the battle against his misgivings. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept when he heard the guard at his door.

“Yes, thank you, I’m awake.”

The knocking didn’t stop.

Hewlett realized it was coming from the adjacent chamber.

_Anna_.

She was banging on her door. Hewlett’s first thought was the injury to her hand. He didn’t want to risk having the wounds reopen. Dressing himself quickly but not completely as his wig would take too long to pin and his dress coat was with Anna, he went to explain his actions to the women he hoped they would benefit.

* * *

 

Anna came close to hitting him as he unlocked the door to the small, dark room. He asked her if she was alright, taking her right hand in his for examination. He didn’t get a chance to look it over before she pulled it away.

“We had a deal, Major Hewlett!”

“Anna, please, lower your voice. I have every intention of honoring my word, but I need you to trust me.” the major said in as even a tone as he could.

“What happened over the course of your life that told you the best means to that end was to have me imprisoned without charge?” she hissed back.

_Without charge._

Hewlett wondered if the number of charges he could have brought against her had he so wished was finite; she being the unlikely embodiment of so many of the troubles his side had faced in this war. He hated that the oath he had made to her put him in conflict with the crown. He hated having a personal conflict with Anna.

“What happened? _You_ , ah- can you truly question that in earnest? Anna, you broke rank and charged into a situation where you could have potentially been killed. Or have gotten poor Mr. Woodhull killed. You act without thinking and I am _forced_ keep you here out of concern for your well-being. I’m not blind. You hung a petticoat yesterday. Do you honestly think I am going to risk having you run off into the woods when there is an extremely dangerous, volatile mercenary in the area? For once do try to be sensible.”

He tried to reach out to her but she stepped back.

“Sensible?” Anna started to pace, with each step her volume increasing, “Sensible? Major, upon learning by whom Abe was being ransomed your first instinct was to gather every piece of evidence against me when it ought to have been to grab both of us and _run_. And this after swearing before God that I would be acquitted if-”

“My men will raid your former headquarters looking for Rogers. I couldn’t jeopardize your identity being uncovered.”

Anna wouldn’t look directly at him, but she seemed to understand the logic behind his actions all the same. Her voice was softened when she hesitantly asked after a few minutes of silence, “What will you do with all of it? The things you collected, I mean.”

_Is she afraid or ashamed?_

Hewlett expected that he would have had a chance to examine the files he’d asked Wakefield to obtain before explaining his plan to Anna. The major simply lacked the authority to pardon a wanted spy. Anna’s path to redemption would be contingent on his ability to falsify evidence. He had asked that the murder case be reopened, not to damn Simcoe, who had been too clever to leave any clue of his involvement, but rather to pin Anna’s crimes on a man who had been loyal to the king. He wondered if on his day of judgement the excuse of giving his ensign’s empty life and pointless death meaning would work better on St. Peter than it did on his own conscious.

_Anna, try to understand. In your goodness please forgive that which I cannot forgive in myself._

“Will you take a seat?” he gestured towards the bed. She obliged him.

Hewlett walked over to the wooden chair in the corner of Anna’s expedient cell. His dress coat was draped over the back it, the gun poor Mrs. Strong had been forced to kill with lie on its bank.

He considered the crime against God and man he would soon try to enlist her help in committing, deciding that he was unfit to wear the empire’s red. He added the gun to his arsenal. Repositioning the stool in front of her, his coat resting in his lap, he began;

“I cannot simply destroy the evidence, Anna. Not yet anyway.” Seeing panic sweep across her face he added quickly, “not for the reasons you might be considering.”

This seemed to give her nothing of comfort.

“I need to read through everything, make sure I know exactly what I am dealing with before proceeding.”

“I’ve told you everything, Major, I swear it.”

The lack of familiarity struck him. Since entering her cell she’d not once referred to him without his title. It made him as uncomfortable as when she endearingly called him Edmond. He felt less entitled to his rank than to his codename given the nature of the conversation.

“Ah - Anna, I am hear off the record. There is no need for such formalities.”

“Mmm.” She replied. He noted something skeptical in her gaze.

“There are, well, things about your testimony that I am either missing or that simply don’t add up.”

“What do you mean? I gave you a full account.”

“You gave me an account of a three man operation. Tallmadge, Abigail, and yourself. Who was the courier? I can’t believe that the major would have ventured from camp alone through British-held territory on a regular basis to check a drop box. Who is this Agent 722 who evidently wants to see me slain?”

“I don’t know.” her familiar refrain resurfaced.

“You might not. I am willing to believe that. But I need to figure it out. If nothing else, I have to tie up any loose ends that might expose my plan as a ruse.”

“What plan?”

“Anna, please understand, I won’t allow any harm to come to you, I won’t, but given my position-”

“Your hands are tied and you’ll have to report me.”

“Ah, no, well. I simply, I lack the power to declare _nolle prosequi_.” He paused, trying to regain his air of authority, “I have it figured out though. Give me a few days to go through the evidence, fill in any holes my superiors might find, gain a better understanding of the enemy and-”

“So you admit to misleading me, confess to having me jailed because of your lack of trust in me and then expect that I should trust you while you investigate me further, essentially searching for a way to protect me, _the enemy_ , from you?”

_Point noted._

He didn’t know how to comfort her. He didn’t know if his desire to reach for her hand was born from an emotional reaction, or if he simply felt the need to take her heart rate. Either way, she spurned his advance. He moved his hand to his brow in a way he hoped would suggest intention.

“So what is the rest of your plan, Major? What will you do once you have determined exactly how wicked I am to be defined as?”

“I do _not_ think you wicked, Anna. If I did I wouldn’t attempt to find you a way out of all of this.”

“A way out.” she scoffed. “As if I’d …do you expect to see remorse? Gratitude?”

_Someday you’ll share in my beliefs. Someday you’ll cease thinking of yourself as my enemy. Just wait. Just trust me._

“More than you currently expect to show it I’m certain.”

His slight smile was met with a hard glare.

“Anna, I understand why you are nervous. You needn’t be. I’ll get rid of any evidence that incriminates you, it just needs to be examined first. For your benefit as well as for my own.”

“What is the rest of your plan, Major?”

With one word Hewlett felt himself again caught off-guard.

_‘Major’ … she continues to call me simply by my title. She must think herself on trial. I can’t make her feel comfortable. How could I, when she thinks us to be in opposition? How vain am I to even try?_

“Ah, yes well, I’ll be the first to confess that it is not ideal, but there may be a way to place the blame for Mr. Culper’s treason on someone else, ah, someone deceased, who died, recently, without leaving any next of kin. You would be safe. You could start over. I just need -”

Anna shook her head. “No. No. Major, please, you’re a good man. At least, you’re a better man than _this_.”

“Anna, I promised to protect you and -”

“And you promised me your friendship. Let me tell you how to be a friend. I neither want nor need you blacken the name or reputation of another in order to spare me a punishment which is yours to deliver. I acted as a spy because of my beliefs. If you are my friend, if you respect _me_ , you will respect _that_.”

“I do respect you. I respect –even admire - the lengths that you went to in order to fight for what you _think_ you believe in. Respect my belief that you shouldn’t have to spend your life suffering the repercussions of what you will one day see as your mistakes.”

“Don’t pretend to know my heart, Major.”

“You are young, Anna. One day you will wake up to all of the glory of our empire and I intend to make sure that you can enjoy it with all of the rights you have as a subject of the crown, not that you wind up a prisoner of it.”

“My rights? Like having my home and livelihood taken because my husband got into a bar fight? Or like being jailed on your whims because you think falsifying evidence is somehow a lesser crime than hanging a petticoat? When are you going to realize that it is _you_ who has gone too far?”

Hewlett remembered what Abe had said to him about being in love with two women. He found himself torn between a venomous snake and a delicate girl. It was sometimes difficult to remember that he was _always_ addressing both, just as it was sometimes hard to draw the line between _Edmond_ and _Major Hewlett_. He thought about the cover up he had already set into motion. At his core it seemed that when necessity called for it he could indeed be worse than either of the men he pretended to be in front of _Anna Strong_ or _Mr. Culper_.

She reached for his hand, surprising him.

“For what it is worth, Major, I wish we weren’t in this situation either.”

“We will find a way out.”

“No.”

_Yes!_

“Anna, I apologize if the plan I suggested was-” _too_ _corrupt? Vile? Reprehensible?_ “What am I saying?” _What was I thinking?_ “Of course it was. Forgive my insensitivities. I should have thought -”

“Major. Stop. I want to believe you have the best intentions. I’m not blind to all you do for me, for your men, for Setauket, outside of what is expected of your post. But what you do in direct service to the king is abominable. If you allowed yourself one lucid moment you would see that all of the ills you try to correct or conceal are directly tied to the policies you are meant to enforce. You accuse me of recklessness, of not knowing what values truly lie within my heart but-” she paused, sighed, and met his eyes directly for the first time that morning, “you don’t _honestly_ believe that any plan you could conceive of to make my treason disappear would stop me from making the same decisions in the future, do you? And I think … if you had any interest in self-scrutiny you would find that you really don’t, in fact, care.”

“Of course I care. Do you imagine I would be here, plotting what may amount to my own destruction, on your behalf if I didn’t? I believe in justice being served, but I also believe in the oath that I took to protect the empire and its citizens. Some of the policies our king imposes, though I in principle agree with, I … how to phrase this best? I can understand where you’ve misconception comes from. I don’t pretend to be able to empathize with your ideas, I can’t condone your past actions, and no, I don’t imagine that a single cover up will necessarily be enough to save you from save you from yourself. But I believe in you. I’d fight an infinite number of battles for you. Anna, you are the strongest, bravest, most foolish woman I have ever known. You have so much potential and I couldn’t live with myself if I simply sat back and watched you throw it all away in the support of -”

“Stop! How dare you feed me honeyed words whilst insulting my integrity? How dare you defend your belief in the law when you are free to break it as you see fit?”

“Anna-”

“Mrs. Strong.” she corrected. “How can we continue any pretense of familiarity? Despite everything you put me through since your arrival on these shores, I felt as if a real friendship existed between us. I felt as if it was developing into something more, and then I realized, I don’t know you at all do I? So how dare you assume that you know me?!”

She was so angry, so accusing. Yet he felt her hand gripping his tighter. He instantly regretted acknowledging it. She recoiled as his eyes fell on their intertwined fingers.

“You know more about me than anyone else on this side of the Atlantic. Your feelings, what you feel, felt, I mean … that is to say, you’re not alone. I think I would be lying to myself if I pretended you ever had been. Everything is wrong, but. Forgive me, Mrs. Strong, I shouldn’t have suggested … I want only to get you out of this. Out of all the troubles you’ve found yourself in and you’ve laden me with. I do value you, your friendship. When we met you knew my politics and eventually decided to accept me anyway. I learned yours over time and still found myself won over by your charm. I don’t know what should be different between us. The only thing that is different is that you now know what I know and I’ve come to realize that I will have my work cut out for me in your defense. That changes nothing for me.”

“I told you I loved you and you called it a sin. For me, that changes everything.”

_Of everything that transpired, that is what ha_ s _her upset? Could it be that Anna was genuine in her sentiment?_

Hewlett felt his throat contracting.

“You know I never meant-“

“I never know what you mean! I’m never sure what you want! All I can say with any degree of certainty about you is that you are so deep into whatever it is that you are doing you’ll likely never surface.”

_How many ways do you have to bring me to question my honor?_

“What you speak of … I am unable to deny it. What you need to understand is that is, however, not what I want for you. None of this is. Heed my warning, if you continue down this path it,” he sighed. Things were already uncomfortably personal between them. “I’ll find a way to save you.”

“What about what I want?”

“Forgive me Mrs. Strong but I am in a far better position to judge. Even if there were no ideological differences between us, I would still do everything in my power to stop-”

“And that is the problem with the world we live in, Major. Why should you get to be so flexible with your will that you think it right to impose it on everyone whereas I am forced to accept things just because you, acting as a hand of the king, think it best?”

“Because I always have your best interest in mind. Furthermore I am entitled to use my judgment when it comes to securing Setauket. I know that the locals may not agree with all of my choices but if that is the price of law, order, and authority I’m willing to pay it. I cannot on my life understand why that is so hard for you to see.”

“You inforce the laws that advance you and ignore the ones which might bring you to conflict. When are you going to realize that this benefits no one in the end? That you are alienating the very people you need to win over? When are you going to see that simply by being here, off the record, in my cell, puts you in direct opposition to the law you claim to so love? When will you openly join the rebellion you are already, dare I say _knowingly_ , playing a role in?”

She had gone too far.

“How dare you so much as insinuate such a dreadful thing as open treason?! Can you honestly think that I would ever, ever turn my back on king and country? I do what I must to protect this garrison and the people of this town. Yes, sometimes that means setting harsh presidents, yes, sometimes fate determines that the law needn’t be implemented to its full extent. It is a delicate balance and peace is not always easily kept. Why must you constantly find yourself in the middle of all of this? And … and how _dare_ you try to make me feel guilty about _not_ damning us both by breaking one of the Ten Commandments? How can you suggest that it doesn’t constantly pain me to dodge your advances?”

Anna looked as if she wanted to reply, but Hewlett rose to take his leave of her, unable to suffer her presence at the moment. Putting on his dress coat he added quietly, “Do you truly linger to some hope that I lack any real conviction in my beliefs? The only thing that stays my hand is … is you. Don’t pretend to know my heart, Anna.”

“And don’t play with mine, _Richard_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh! Now I can finally quit misspelling Edmund. Oh joyous day. I’d actually intended for this chapter to be a bit longer (and this plot point to come up a bit later), but this seemed like a good time to drop and cut off.
> 
> Notes:  
> “Pardon the interruption, Major, but we have the stocks.”(I learned a new word this week! :) You all might already know this but since I actually had to do some research, ‘stocks’ refers here to an outdoor device for holding prisoners that was used in colonial America. There was some level or public humiliation involved, which is why Judge Woodhull was pushing for it and Major Hewlett shot him down.  
> In rare cases civilians can be court martialed. In the (modern!) British Armed Forces, Article 3 relates to Obstructing Orders, and can only be used against servicemen. Article 13, Contravening Orders, can be implemented when there is civilian involvement. As I am neither a student of history nor of the law, I really want to assume that all one could have been hung back in the day on any of the charges I’ve mentioned. Woodhull is too … pragmatic to bring that up to Hewlett though, even if he hoped for such an outcome.  
> Habeas Corpus is a legal recourse dealing with unlawful detention or imprisonment.  
> Nolle Prosequi is when the prosecution declares that criminal charges will not be sought.
> 
> This chapter’s title is a parody on the 1998 Orhan Pamuk novel. Just throwing this out there - am I the only one who feels like if there is a romantic element in any of Pamuk’s works it follows the formula of ‘intelligent outside has an all-consuming crush on a divorcée who despite being a few socioeconomic rungs beneath him remains totally out of his league’? (Is that why I like this ship?) I might also confess here that due to my academic schedule my diet consists entirely of coffee, I basically never sleep, and as a result I consider cheap puns to be the highest form of humor. 
> 
> There is an outsider POV essential to the external plot that I really need to get to, thought it would happen next week, but right now I am sort of undecided. Anna chapter / outside chapter …? Either way it will get us to the same place.  
> *Let me know if you have a preference.*  
> Thanks as always for your readership, kudos and comments. Always brightens my day (after I’ve wrecked 20 minutes of yours?) xoxo
> 
> Up next: Cosmetic Damages


	9. Black Books, White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary would [have] be[en …?] the best spy. Too bad about what happens to her literally in the first paragraph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the word count. I wish that I was (even remotely!) capable of crafting beautiful, concise chapters like so many of your number, but alas, we all have our flaws.

 

Robert Rogers watched the scene as it unfolded from behind the undergrowth where he had been lying in wait. It was precisely what he had planned to do himself, but this once he was content to let another player take the field. He had never exactly been keen to dirty his hands with a woman’s blood. A kill just wasn’t a kill unless a fight was involved. Though the petite lady in pink seemed to be struggling to the full extent of her strength, this was clearly not going to be a contest. He wondered why she didn’t simply scream. Hewlett had at least two divisions of his troops standing within hearing distance. If she cried out for help, as most women were want to do, it could have made things _fun_ for him.

_No matter._

He grunted, letting go of his mild disappointment. This wasn’t a setback. He finally had everyone positioned exactly where he needed them to be.

 

-Two Hours Earlier -

The water Mary added to the broth she had specifically brewed to aid in her husband‘s recovery did nothing to alleviate its overwhelmingly salty taste. It only made it colder. Still, she reasoned, Anna had to eat something, and this couldn’t possibly be fouler than the food served at De Young’s Tavern. She tasted it again, becoming less convinced. Putting the bowl on a serving tray with a cup of tea and a piece of dry bread, she carried it upstairs.

Ensign Beckett met her at the top of the stairwell. He was a short but corpulent man at least five years her junior. Even holding a rifle he didn’t look intimidating. He was relatively new to Setauket, as out of place patrolling a peaceful town as he would have been on a battlefield. Mary had specifically waited for him to come on duty. He cried out to her as she passed.

“Mrs. Woodhull! Please understand, I’m under orders. I can’t let you up here.” The entire statement sounded like an apology. Mary wondered if he had it rehearsed.

She gave him her sweetest smile.

“But of course, Ensign Beckett.” He looked surprised that she knew his name. “I would never attempt to interfere with your duty, it is only that it is past mealtime and the servants told me that poor Mrs. Strong has not eaten as of yet. I only hoped to be allowed to bring her something to help her regain her strength. I’ve no designs on waking my husband from the rest the good doctor made it clear that he needs.”

“I - forgive me ma’am, but I cannot allow that. Major Hewlett was quite clear.”

Mary doubted that Major Hewlett had announced Anna’s imprisonment to his stationaries. After all, they had been standing guard all morning outside of Abe’s room, _their_ room. Not Anna’s.

But what explanation had he given if not the one she had seen him pay Dr. Reynolds so handsomely to collaborate?

“Oh? Would you be ever so kind as to inform me as to what he said? This morning he expressed _such_ concern for Mrs. Strong’s health.”

“Y-yes, that is true. He said that her room was not to be entered because she is ill and highly con-, con- um…”Beckett stammered in response.

The boy was an idiot. Hewlett was as well. He provably said ‘contagious’ to a solider who’d had no more than three years of schooling, expecting him to know the definition. She wondered briefly if the major was somehow unaware that everyone in town was afraid to pose questions to him, not because they feared what the answers might be, but rather that he would provide them in a way designed to generate a discussion that no one was particularly eager to have.

“Con ...tradictive?” she offered.

“I think so, yes.”

Mary offered up a sound that fell somewhere between a high giggle and a suppressed laugh. She had used it for years in unpleasant or otherwise dull company. She came off as friendly, not flustered, the blotches fighting their way through her foundation that would otherwise suggest anger turning into a gentle blush.

“Why of course she is! I am surprised to hear that the major put it in such terms though.”

_Tee hee._ She hoped her eyes didn’t roll.

“Why is that ma’am?”

“Do – oh, please don’t take this as an insult Ensign Beckett - but do you know what that word means? When I first heard it I myself had to ask, but then I am certain our schools in New York are nothing compared to the schools in the mother country.”

Beckett returned her laughter and confessed his ignorance. Mary explained that by contradictive Hewlett meant that Mrs. Strong was simply disagreeable, which she was, always. Being sick and hungry wouldn’t help her condition. The major had likely hoped to spare his men from her tantrums, Mrs. Strong not being keen on bed rest. Beckett seemed grateful for the explanation. He also seemed to buy her loose definition of the word’s fourth meaning as an excuse not to argue the matter further. When she asked again to be allowed to check up on her _dear friend_ he led her not in the direction of Anna’s chamber, but of Hewlett’s, causing Mary to raise an eyebrow. Beckett unlocked the door to a small room that had been used to house servants back before the war began, when Whitehall was a proper household. Now it just served as storage for a few of the major’s possessions, which included Anna, apparently.

She wondered if it had been a conscious decision on the major’s part to have her jailed in such close proximity to where he slept. She wondered if he thought it wise.

Mary knew she shouldn’t use the room where Anna was being held against her will as further justification for her resentment of the woman. She was admittedly weak however when faced with the temptation to find fault in _everything_ related to her long-standing rival. Every hint of affection Hewlett showed towards Anna, no matter how veiled or vague, seemed to add emphasis to the flaws in Mrs. Strong’s character. Mary wondered how this woman, whom she personally found dull, tedious and obstinate somehow embodied the desires of so many men, her husband not excluded. In every smile the major offered Anna, Mary saw Abe. How many hidden looks had he shared with his former fiancée over the course of his marriage to her? Mary wondered if she would ever be granted reprieve from her jealousies over someone whom she would never wish to trade roles with.

As the ensign looked for the key to the door Mary could here Anna rustling inside. The door opened to reveal the prisoner pretending to be asleep. Mary could smell smoke from the tallow candle Anna had just blown out. She shifted her body, holding the food tray in a way that blocked Beckett from entering the room.

“I’ll wake her, you needn’t stay. I would _hate_ to think of asking you to abandon your post. I promise I won’t be long, just let me make sure she has had enough to eat and drink.” She said through a painted smile.

“Yes. Quite kind of you. I ought to get back.” the ensign agreed. “Please let Mrs. Strong know that we all wish her a quick return to health.” he added, sounding sincere.

“I am sure she will be quite happy to hear that.” Mary smiled back.

As Beckett walked away, Mary closed the door he had left propped open. The window was small and the sky was grey; without the light from the hallway Mary could hardly see. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

“Mary? Thank goodness I -”

Mary hasten to the bed where Anna was now sitting, nearly spilling both the soup and the tea she had brought up.

“Anna!” she exhaled, dropping all of her pretense. “I fear as if I am losing my wits, please, tell me what has happened. Father has not been able to tell me _anything_ except that there have been rumors of savage attacks in the area and Major Hewlett won’t so much as speak to me on the matter.”

“Savage?” Anna sounded profoundly confused. “Used as a noun or an adjective?”

“Father’s description, not mine.” Mary replied curtly. She wouldn’t have cared to enter into an argument over race with a woman who herself had been a slave holder on a normal occasion and was most certainly less inclined on this particular afternoon.

Anna caught her tone, though she stammered on in confusion.

“No, it is only…we’ve had nothing of the sort in Setauket since I was a teenager. That is not at all what -”

_So, Father has again taken me for a fool._

“Would _you_ then be so kind as to explain to me _what happened to my husband_?” she demanded in a raw voice she barely recognized as her own.

It took Anna a moment to answer. She spoke carefully, but hurriedly, as if the words would be less painful if she could somehow make them all come out at one.

“Late last night, or early this morning rather, I found Abe beaten and bound up in the cellar on your old farm. After shooting Corporal Easton, he was captured by Robert Rogers, who then, I speculate, forced him to address a ransom note to Major Hewlett. Had the letter not been in Abe’s own hand, I may have never found him. And, ironically it seems,” she swallowed, “if I didn’t recognize it as his handwriting, I would have – oh Mary, God, I’m so sorry.”

_Sorry? What exactly for?_

Mary wasn’t angry per se, not with Anna at any rate. Even if she later would be, she saw that this was no time to give into emotional reactions.

“Who is Robert Rogers?” she asked evenly.

“He was the commander of the Queen’s Rangers before the post was given to Simcoe. I don’t know the full story behind his dismissal, but from what I understand, if Simcoe is a demon, Rogers is nothing short of the devil himself.”

Mary nodded, quietly adding, “It would certainly seem so.”

The silence that followed lasted just long enough to give her a chill.

“How is he now?”

“I don’t know. Dr. Reynolds was here briefly about an hour ago, but he didn’t give me much of an update.”

“You haven’t seen him?”

“Hewlett won’t allow it. He said – you were there, he said that Abe is a key witness to something. He said…” It didn’t matter. Mary had spent half the morning berating the major for his insistence on keeping her husband separated from the members of his family. He would not budge on the issue. He would not provide clear reasons as to why.

Mary found herself alone.

She knew Father shared her thoughts, but she could reasonably assume that whereas she viewed husband’s confinement with dread, the magistrate took pleasure in it. If that alone wasn’t more than she could bare, Mary had overheard him arguing in favor of _Anna Strong’s_ immediate release.

Here again, the major didn’t seem to waver in his decision.

Mary hoped that Father had been testing Hewlett’s resolve. That he had every intention of having the door’s to Abe’s room opened as soon as the major had been undermined by way of his greatest weakness.

It just hadn’t worked.

The thoughts that had plagued her all morning returned.

_Hewlett must be on to them both._

_Why am I seeking confirmation?_

Mary questioned if it even mattered at that point. How long was she meant to excuse her husband his misdeeds? How long would she hold herself in part responsible?

She began to voice these concerns to the only person who might have been able to sympathize.

“I’m worried that, Lord forgive me, I am worried about who Abe is going to be when he wakes up. After his return from York City, he’s been so, so …” Hearing her thoughts aloud, Mary regretted opening herself up for reasons that had nothing to do with Mrs. Strong. The words didn’t fail her, but she was loath to speak them. Mrs. Woodhull did _not_ consider herself to be the sort of woman who surrendered to the base urges her friends often did of speaking ill of the men to whom they were bound. It pained her to think that she was even capable of blaming Abe for his recent behavior.

A better wife would have been able to tame the impulses that seemed to overtake him.

A better partner might have come up with a better scheme.

_Abe is seriously injured. I can’t take my rightful place at his bedside because thanks to my own insistence on helping him in his illicit undertakings, Major Hewlett may in fact be aware of -_

Unable to fight off her feelings of guilt, she continued, “And now this dreadful experience has befallen him and it wouldn’t have if not for _my plan_.”

“Mary! Stop, you mustn’t punish yourself. This is in no way your fault. Rogers must have somehow found out about the work Abe was pretending to do for Hewlett and captured him for ransom. He could have done so at any point, we were lucky that Abe was first able to carry out the assassination.”

Mary felt so strange taking comfort in Anna’s explanation.

_Ransom … Assassination … How can it be that I find myself here?_

“I’ll admit, I find that if anyone, it is I who should bare the blame.” Anna confessed, “Seeing the letter, written by Abe, addressed to the major, I imagined that he still intended to kill him and I just … I wasted so much precious time last night _begging_ Hewlett to let me go it alone that I, I just keep thinking, what if we had gotten there sooner? Would it have made a difference?”

Mary’s mind twisted.

_Stop. The fault then lies with my husband. If he hadn’t returned to us so void of everything beyond his own personal politics, you would have never come to what I’m sorry to say is the same assumption I myself would have made._

“Sometimes I think we are all of us guilty of failing to act. With regards to Abraham … dare I confess that I would have shared your hesitations? Oh, Anna, I’m not even sure who he is anymore.”

_I’m not sure I ever have been._

Anna gave a weak smile.

“I don’t imagine it will help, but he was back to trying to crack jokes when Hewlett and I were helping him out of the cellar.” she said, her tone lighter.

“Not funny?” Mary returned the slight grin, recalling better days when her greatest annoyance had been her husband’s poor attempts at humor.

“Of course not.” The two women laughed, perhaps to keep from crying.

Mary remembered the tray she had brought for Anna. The bread was soaked with spilt tea and broth, both by which she could imagine as being frigid by this point. She apologetically offered it up anyway and Anna accepted graciously. Mary watched her eat, not sure if she was polite or disgusting or a strange mixture of both.

“What happened last night for you to be in here? Father said Hewlett has yet to make an official charge.” she asked partially out of desire not to sit in silence while Anna slurped up the broth.

Anna put the tray down. She had not finished eating. Any comfort the two women had taken in each other vanished with a single inquiry. Mary watched her think. She was suddenly afraid to hear the answers she so sought. Anna seemed darker than she did when explaining how she had come to find Abe.

_If she answers honestly, it will make the nightmare real._

“I might have better not asked. You needn’t answer if-”

“No, it is better that you know. Last night … last night I told the major that I was Samuel Culper. I confessed to all of Abe’s crimes as well as those I committed when Hewlett accused me of spying.”

Mary Woodhull was not often shocked, but Anna’s response rendered her speechless.

_Abe is safe._

_Abe is safe!_

_When he wakes, the major will simply take a statement and this will be behind us._

She hoped the thought hadn’t brought a smile to her face. For all of their differences, Mary would never have wanted that it be said that she had been outright cruel to Anna.

_Anna, who saved my husband’s life from forces I didn’t even realize threated it._

She covered her mouth, hoping the woman whom she was facing recognized in the gesture her surprise rather than her relief.

Anna looked broken. Her words replayed themselves in Mary’s head.

<< It is better that you know … Hewlett accused me of spying. >>

For the first time she felt genuine pity for the woman.

For the first time she saw Anna Strong as an ally.

“How did this come about?” Mary asked as Anna reached for a notebook she had hidden behind a pillow.

“Last night as I was closing Major Hewlett came into the tavern with evidence he had been collecting against me, hoping to use it as leverage to force me to help him uncover where Abe was being held hostage. At the time he was under the impression that your husband had been captured by rebels. Before I realized what was truly going on, I wrote a confession designed to stop any further inquiries. At the time I had not suspected that Abe was in fact in any danger.”

“So, Hewlett’s heightened interest in you…” _How awful._

Anna nodded.

“He promised that I wouldn’t answer for my crimes provided that Abe was safely returned. I don’t believe him.”

_I suppose you have every reason not to._ Though Mary was hesitant to make assumptions about what Mrs. Strong might have been feeling towards Major Hewlett, she recognized some solidarity between Anna and herself in that moment. After all, she had firsthand experience with the torment of loving someone across an ideological divide. Mary wondered if it was worse to be left alone in a marriage or left alone in a cell, or if their realities could have been said to be perfect metaphors for one another.

“He confessed to me this very morning his inability to make good on his claims. Well, at least in any way that would…” she trailed off.

Presenting Mary with the notebook she had uncovered, Anna resumed her plea, “Mary, when we were in the cellar, Hewlett was able to collect more evidence, the nail in my coffin as it were. I know you have no interest in our fight for liberty, but Abe’s life could still be at risk if you don’t act quickly. We have a code book, your husband and I, which looks very much like this one. In it, there is a list of names with numbers that correspond to them.”

Mary remembered burning such a record the summer before. _How could they be so stupid to carry on with the same tricks? It is of little wonder that Anna was caught. Thank God Abe has thus far been able to escape her fate._

“There is an entry for everyone in Setauket. Everyone except Abe. I need you to find the book, and add his name to the list. Hewlett already suspects that I have not been completely honest in my confession. He expects that the ring is larger than I’ve lead on. The code book has me listed as 721. 722 is the entry for Samuel Culper. Hewlett has to think that Culper and I are one in the same. I need you to add ‘Jr.’ to that entry. If Hewlett figures out-”

Mary didn’t wait for Anna to finish her thought.

“Where is the book now?”

She was ready to act.

“Hewlett said that he wanted to go through the evidence. I have reason to believe that after our argument this morning he has delayed action. If he knew that I had this book, if he saw that it was missing from the bag, I am inclined to believe based on its content that he would have come back in search of it. Do you think it possible to get inside his chamber? I imagine he has hidden the book I had intended to steal back somewhere in there, along with all of the other papers pertaining to the investigation. I lent him my purse last night, last I saw it he was keeping everything he collected inside. You know, the brown one?”

Mary’s heart stopped. “He must have taken it to work with him. I’ve already searched his room.”

“How did you know what to look for?” Anna asked, puzzled.

“I didn’t. But I know where he keeps almost everything, that is, I know where all of his usual hiding spots are, and I feel that a woman’s purse would surely have stuck me as being out of place no matter where he was trying to conceal it.”

Anna’s face betrayed her furthered confusion.

_How can anyone be so dense?_ As grateful as she was to Anna for aiding in her husband’s return, for all that she had done to cover his missteps, she really questioned how the rebels imagined recruiting such a fool would have been at all advantageous.

“Honestly, Anna, how long have you been living with us? I find a reason to enter the major’s room whenever I anticipate a social engagement. It isn’t difficult. This morning Hewlett left for work after I’d sent Aberdeen to take Thomas to his play-date. I entered under the pretense of needing to make his bed.”

_Take note, Mr. Culper._ It felt strange to take some measure of pride in evidently being a better thief than the accomplished spy was. _Thank God you’re asking my help._

“Whatever for?” she seemed oddly defensive of the privacy of a man whose possessions she’d asked Mary to tamper with only moments before.

“Powder, naturally.”

Anna’s mouth widened to match the shape of her now bulging eyes.

“It was expensive before the war began and now it isn’t even available for normal purchase. The major doesn’t notice, and if he does he doesn’t mind. He seems far more worried about Father searching through his paperwork than he is about me occasionally skimming a little off the top.”

“Mary! You mustn’t!” Anna was suddenly on the attack. Mary had no idea what to do with her.

“It is hard to tell where your moral lines lie. Yes to betraying king and country, no to borrowing cosmetics?”

“That stuff is made of lead, it’s poisonous! Why do you think Hewlett is always rubbing his temples? He must have a constant headache.”

Mary blinked.

“I … was not aware of the risk. Do you think that Major Hewlett is?”

_Thank you,_ dear friend _for gifting me with yet another concern._

Anna averted her eyes. “I am sure of it, you know how proud he is though.”

_For the love of God!_ _Did your mother teach you nothing?_

After gaping at her for a moment, Mary fired back. “Use that. Next time you see him barefaced, compliment him. Stroke his ego. He’d do anything to win favor with you.”

The words seemed to paralyze Mrs. Strong.

Mary realized instantly that in her misplaced frustration she had spoken out of turn. She tried to remind herself that Anna took the major’s lust to be a lie.

_It is rather sweet of Anna to think of my health given her situation. How insensitive can I be to suggest she offer Hewlett the same regard?_

Anna was now, after all, the patriot prisoner of a loyal British officer who had a signed admission of guilt. He had used flirtation as a pretense to get close enough to her that she would trust him with so much of her truth. It was unfair of Mary to even suggest that care could still exist between them.

_It isn’t mine to address the fact that she still seems to be under is spell. I’ve only to deal with the reality that I too am apparently still lost in the illusions he gave her._

Mary struggled to see the major as the enemy.

_Because he isn’t mine,_ she told herself.

_And if I can help it, he won’t be Abe’s._

“He will never speak to me again.” Anna said, as if coming to terms with that possibility.

Mary had her doubts about her ally’s assessment, but what good would it do to assert them?

_I feel I owe it to you to find some reasonable explanation, dear Anna. Hewlett wouldn’t simply -_

“He will never speak to me again.” Anna repeated, this time sounding convinced. “That is why … shit Mary, you have to find and edit the code book. You have to.”

“Assuming I am able to get my hands on it, wouldn’t it be more prudent to simply destroy it?”

“No. I’ve had time to think this over. I tried twice to take it back, I know he will remember. If it goes missing, it will only confirm his suspicions and if he sees the name Culper and not the name Woodhull -”

“I understand.” Mary flipped through the notebook Anna had displayed for reference. “Ought I to return this as well?”

“No.”

_Numbers and sketches and notes written in quick-hand. Drawings of Anna in compromising positions. Is she so desperate to hold on to the memory of being his muse?_ Mary’s heart ached for both of them. _What must Hewlett be feeling? He clearly felt_ something _for Anna at some point._

“Do be sensible. This seems rather private and I imagine that when he realizes it is missing -”

“Hewlett already knows that I am a spy. In keeping this I am not bringing any risk to Abe or to the cause. There is a code I need to crack. That is all.” She reached over to Mary’s lap, turned the page from the obscene sketch Mary had been looking at in wonder, and pointed to a series of numbers.

_A price list?_

“You are making a mistake.” Mary warned, her concern again overriding her misgivings about Mrs. Strong.

“Perhaps.” Anna consented.

“I’ll find your book. I’ll find a way.” she said, handing back to Anna something sure to break her heart and damn her soul. Mary rose to carry out the mission she had been given when Anna grabbed her hand, placing a small piece of paper into it.

“Mary… there is something else. If you are willing, please, give this note to Abe.”

“You know that at least to be impossible.”

“The crime Hewlett said that Abe witnessed, it was a crime he helped commit. The story I gave Hewlett involved me shooting both of the Rangers that have gone missing. In truth it was a group effort between Abe, Caleb and myself. He needs to collaborate my story for his own safety.”

This was the first Mary had heard of the incident, but nothing about Anna’s latest confession caused her pause.

_How quickly we are able alter our expectations._

“I understand.” she replied, having already begun calculating a scheme.

“And … I need you to get a message to Caleb to let him know all that has happened.”

Mary knew Caleb only by name.

“How do you expect me to do that?”

* * *

 

At the garrison’s headquarters Mary overheard the three soldiers stationed outside of Major Hewlett’s office whispering amongst themselves.

“The princess in the tower.”- “I heard its morning sickness.”- “What, like she’s pregnant?”- “Either of you fucks think ol’ Hew can even get it up?”- “What else would keep Mrs. Oyster interested?”- “I’m telling you she is sick. Whole house is. Major too. Bloody looked like death this morning.”- “Always does.”- “No worse. S’ why he allowed me to come out here.”

Mary was glad that Abe’s name didn’t come up in their rather crude discussion. She asked the stationary who had expressed concern for the major’s health to grant her entrance. He announced her from the doorway, afraid to join her inside the room that had once served for worship and now functioned as storage facility and stable.

Hewlett rose when she was entered, but after exchanging pleasantries made it clear that Mary had come at a rather inconvenient time.

“I’ll be happy to discuss this further with you in the evening, Mrs. Woodhull. Right now I have a rather pressing matter at hand that requires my full attention.”

Mary looked at the papers on his desk. A personnel file, a few random notes, an itinerary written last year. Nothing related to her husband’s kidnapping, Robert Rogers, or the Culper Ring. She saw Anna’s purse at his feet.

“Mrs. Woodhull?”

“My apologies, Major. I fear I’ve been distracted by the sight my purse.” she lied. “I lent it to dear Anna some time ago and am surprised to see it here. Is … is that _blood_ , Major?” Mary reached for the bag. Holding it in front of her, she examined the deep red stain on its side. Hewlett snatched it back from her, repeating the action as if to suggest he hadn’t previously noted the detriment.

_Anna was right, he has yet to properly study the evidence._

Hewlett murmured something she didn’t catch. From his expression she could discern that it was not meant for a lady’s ears. He was quick to collect himself. Placing the purse atop his desk, he offered to make amends.

“Blood, ah – no. No. It is, well, it is something I wish I had taken more time to properly secure. My apologies with regard to your purse’s condition. If you find a suitable replacement I will be glad to purchase it for you. If not, I can simply reimburse -”

“There is really no need, Major Hewlett.” Mary didn’t care, the bag hadn’t been hers to begin with. It smelled of vinegar and of something else vaguely familiar what Mary couldn’t immediately place. Better than the scents of beer and bile that she imagined it ordinarily would have reeked of.

“No, I insist.” He said to her while emptying the bag of its contents, no doubt taking an assessment of the damage that had been done to his files. Mary looked as well, she couldn’t see a notebook.

“I’d settle for an explanation of how it found its way into your possession.”

He stared at her for a moment before replying. She tried to read his expression only to find that he was likely mirroring her attempt.

_Calculating._

This wasn’t the Major Hewlett she had grown accustom to in the sitting room of Whitehall. This was the man who had ordered Father with an air of nonchalance to move Thomas’s headstone, the man who sentenced her neighbors to death or imprisonment without hesitation by signing his name, peeved when anyone offered insight or interjection.

And that, Mary figured, was the mistake that everyone had made in trying to negotiate with Hewlett that morning. The ‘major’ never left any of his opponents much room to maneuver.

_So how then do I shatter your defenses?_

“Ah, it didn’t really, that is to say rather, I am looking into something for Mrs. Strong.”

Mary smiled.

“For Mrs. Strong? Why how _very kind_ of you to take the _time_.”

She hoped he would note the implicit accusation of favoritism. If he did, there was nothing about his response that indicated as much.

“It is a small matter, really. I’d rather hoped to get some reading done over lunch, but as of yet I’ve not gotten around to it.”

Mary, knowing the truth behind the matter, took another assessment. Hewlett may have been a more convincing liar than her husband, but his excuse contained a fatal flaw. He _never_ took lunch. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t eat throughout the day, he almost constantly had something to pick on. But she had yet to hear of him actually taking a break in over two years. Setauket was a small town, and Mary took pride in knowing every detail of the itineraries of its inhabitants, though this required no particular skill. Major Hewlett came from a huge city. He still hadn’t accumulated to the lack of anonymity that characterized village life. Mary’s strategy started to take form.

At home it took Hewlett nearly two hours to unwind. Mary considered the factors that may aid in the process. If she formatted her speech to the kinds of things that seemed to lower his guard, she stood a better chance.

“Had I known that you had not eaten I would have been happy to have brought you something from the kitchen.”

Hewlett offered her a slight smile. It was only a minor shift, Mary wondered if she would have missed it had she not anticipated the gesture. She offered to fetch him something but her offer was politely declined, the major restating that his schedule wouldn’t permit him pauses. She knew by that he meant for her to take leave.

_I’m a wife and mother. Conversational sieges are something of my specialty. Tsk. Tsk._

“Is there something special that I might prepare for you tonight at least? As a thank you for bringing _our_ family back together? I feel as if we have made such a burden of ourselves as of late.”

If Hewlett noted her intentional misuse of a possessive adjective he gave no direct indication.

“I assure you, Mrs. Woodhull, I hardly see you or your family as a burden. You needn’t trouble yourself, truly. I would hate to think of you exerting yourself on my count-”

“Oh, but I must! I feel as though my behavior was most unbecoming this morning and-”

“Mrs. Woodhull, I understand the position you feel I’ve put you in. There is really no need for an apology. I might have found a more considerate approach to explaining the necessity of Mr. Woodhull’s detention.”

“Sometimes we all find ourselves faced with difficult choices it seems.”

He nodded, adding with a mournful smile, “Thank you, Mrs. Woodhull. It means a lot to know that someone understands at least.”

Mary smiled gently in return.

“If there is nothing else, I ask your pardon but I truly do need to return to business.”

It was a risk, but Mary had to find a reason to stay long enough to snatch the code book. She leaned forward, moving her chair as discreetly as possible closer to his desk.

“Actually, Major Hewlett, there is something else. Something else I dare say that I must apologize for.”

“I am sure it isn’t warranted, Mrs. Woodhull.”

“I saw Anna Strong this morning.”

Hewlett’s face betrayed his surprise.

“After her arrest.”

Without offering comment, he motioned for her to continue. Mary saw that she now had the benefit of his full, undivided attention. She tried to hold his eye contact as she slowly, silently, began combing her fingers though the stack of papers. She didn’t need to physically see the book, she just needed to feel for it. If he was looking into her eyes, her hands would be ignored.

“It was dreadful, Major Hewlett. I hate feeling as if I disobeyed you.”

“Let’s be clear, you did. Explicitly.” The sudden ice in his voice seemed to fill the room. His eyes were still rested on hers in a fixed glare. Mary met her target about a quarter of the way down the pile. Knowing where it was hidden, she took her hand back. She would just have to keep the major trapped in the conversation until his profession provided another distraction.

“My servants told me that she had not been provided with food or beverage. I, forgive me.” Mary paused for dramatic effect, having tried and failed to make her voice crack. She looked upward as if to suggest there were tears in her eyes. This was the benefits to having grown up with four sisters, all competing for the same limited resources of love and attention. She knew how to add a level of credibility to her fibs. “The good doctor told us this morning that Abe was malnourished and dehydrated. How could I let the same fate befall one of his saviors?”

“My men didn’t see to it that her needs had been provided for?”

“They were afraid of contagion, Major Hewlett.”

“Ah.”

_Ah? That’s it?_

“Although, after the rumors have finished circulating, I doubt that will be a problem going forward.”

“What rumors exactly, Mrs. Woodhull?”

“What I mean to say is, my visiting of dear Anna was only a short, one time occurrence, it shan’t happen again. I am sure by tomorrow every solider in the garrison will be falling over himself to wait on her. Horrible as that is to consider given the reason behind it.”

“What rumors?” it was a demand more than a request. If Mary phrased this correctly, perhaps she could force the major to step outside to implement disciplinary action.

“Oh, it is something rather ludicrous, really. But, also, cruel and … I don’t really know if I ought to repeat it.”

Hewlett leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “You mean the one where I’ve impregnated Mrs. Strong then, don’t you?”

_Good God, is it true?_

“How can you be so cavalier?” she asked as memories from his sketchbook resurfaced.

“There is nothing new to it. Time itself will provide clarity, and when responding to such accusations a denial sounds like a confirmation.”

“Don’t you think that such talk will hurt Anna’s future prospects?”

“Only if she hopes for a career in the British Armed Force. My men talk to pass the time at work. If I ever heard such sentiment being expressed in the village I would place a civil charge on the grounds of deformation of character.” he sounded so indifferent that Mary considered the possibility that Anna was right, that Hewlett really did not have any intention of ever speaking to her again.

Hewlett rubbed his temples.

Mary winced and felt her face, wondering if Anna had been correct about cosmetic damages as well.

“Was that all then, Mrs. Woodhull?”

“I am sure it isn’t for me to ask, but Anna was crying this morning over the prospect of having lost your friendship.”

“And she sent you hear to speak to me on the matter?”

“No, she doesn’t know I intended to come and I don’t think she would approve, but seeing her tears -”

“She was crying?” Hewlett’s apathy faded visibly. “… As was I.” he commented, in a voice Mary didn’t know if she had been meant to hear.

“I don’t pretend to know what transpired between you, but I, that is” Mary could hear herself floundering, she hoped the major wouldn’t recognize the sound of her chocking on her own lies, “Anna and I have formed something of a friendship.” _Yuck._ “As I would like to think you and I share, Major Hewlett. I would really like to encourage you to speak with her.”

“I wish I had something to say.”

_I know! I feel the same way around her!_ Mary was glad she didn’t blow her cover by voicing the words on the tip of her tongue.

“You are a good friend, Mrs. Woodhull. Far better than I am, I fear. Do you truly wish to help Mrs. Strong?”

“Why yes, but of course!”

_Help her save my husband, anyway._

“Alright, Mrs. Woodhull, let’s make a deal, shall we? There is something rather, how to put this, delicate, which I need to have taken care of, but do to the nature of the task it would be rather unseemly to preform it myself or to order my men -” he stopped as the door creaked open. Seeing the man who walked in, he seemed to forget that Mary was in the room.

“Davis.”

Hewlett rose, looking happy and anxious and relieved simultaneously. Mary wondered if she would be as expressive had she been born with equally wide features.

“Major Hewlett, please except my sincerest apologies for my tardiness. Major Andre would not permit me to travel due to -”

“You made it to Andre then? Did he send a reply?” Hewlett asked leaving his desk to approach his corporal.

“Yes sir.”

Mary turned her head to watch. She knew it would be too risky to take the code book with two British officers in the room, even if they were both distracted. Hewlett read the letter he had been given.

“Impossible.” he muttered loud enough for her to hear.

“Sir, he thought you might say that and asked me to remind you -”

Hewlett held up his hand. “Let us better discuss this upstairs in private, Corporal.”

Turning to address Mary, he said, “Mrs. Woodhull, wait here. I should return shortly.”

Mary waited for a moment after the two men left, listening to the sound their boots made as they ascended to the steeple. When she was sure that Hewlett had been too distracted to have sent anyone in to supervise her, she reached into the pile of evidence the major had left in plain sight.

_He must really trust me,_ she though as she found the book, feeling a pang of guilt as her hand committed the act of treason her husband’s actions demanded of it. She could hear someone stomping around upstairs. Whatever reply Major Andre had sent must not have been good, but Mary saw this to be to her benefit. After replacing the altered book she searched further through burnt and stained parchment. She remained seated all the while. There was no way she could have kept an eye on all of the doors and windows at once, and she knew she would attract less attention if she wasn’t in a fully upright position.

_Not here. It is not here at all!_

Mary felt herself becoming anxious. The stomping had stopped, but she could hear that the two men were speaking in raised tones.

_I still have time to ensure that nothing can happen to my husband._

Mary looked around the room. The hearth remained unlit, but in it she saw wood and a few pieces of discarded paper to be used for kindling. Keeping low, she made her way over to the fire place. Mary examined the pieces that had been torn up and partially buried first.

 

<<To Whom It May Concern;

I, Anna Strong, confess to the

Culper / Samuel Colpepper, procured

the continental head of intelligence,

recommendations to General George Wa

Edmond Hewlett of Setauket, who

household of Major John Andre.

Andre’s headquarters by sending un

be given to me in the form of a parcel

soldiers stationed beneath him.>>

 

_Perfect._ Mary though as she searched for the other piece. She planned to hold on to the confession for safe-keeping. Her expectations had been met; whatever Major Hewlett had in mind it had nothing to do with convicting Anna Strong.

But Anna’s admission had meant Abe’s redemption once. Should he ever find himself in legal peril again, Mary knew it would help his case if she could throw off suspicion.

She would tell Anna that Hewlett tried to have it burned.

She would tell Anna that it was ‘for the good of the cause.’

But she wouldn’t apologize.

Thinking she had found the other half, she read on.

 

<< endeavors to conceal the secrets our personal

my lie to you was ~~made in malice, I feel I must confess that~~

see that my concerns were warranted. However, I regret

that I had designed to hurt you with deceit. In truth

provided me with few learning opportunities for how

awoken within me. I long to be the man you spoke

bring out my best and my worse. Still, were I to

colonies, ~~I would have swum the length of the~~

simply felt for very complicated reasons that I

we could ever be anything but enemies.

least on the count of being able to convince myself

some element of destiny to this hell we have

efforts to shelter you from my truth it seems that

wish I was, for who you make me want to be. Just by

Your faithful servant,

Richard Hewlett >>

 

_Not what I need, but._ Mary wondered if she was in fact stealing if Hewlett meant for his confessions to be used as kindling. She found the other half of the missive he had no intent on sending before locating the rest of Anna’s sworn statement. Seeing it addressed to _My Dearest ‘Mr. Culper’_ she decided to hold on to it.

Mary heard footsteps coming down the stairwell. She rushed back to the desk where she was meant to be waiting. It was a gamble, but with Hewlett’s injury being taken into account, she calculated that she would have enough time to jot down the information Abe’s contacts would find most relevant. Ripping a small piece off from the strangest drafted letter she’d ever read, she wrote:

 

<< CB and BT, 721 made confession, faces no sentence at this time. 722 free from suspicion but suffering from injury. RH got message to JA about JR. RR in vicinity. –MW >>

 

She wished she had had the opportunity to have been able to look up everyone’s code name, feeling stupid for only knowing what Anna had told her an hour or so before. She barely had time to hide the two documents she’d stolen before Major Hewlett reentered the room, apologizing for making her wait, before asking what his pen was doing in her hand.

“I was only going to leave you a note. I didn’t know how long you would be.”

Hewlett apologized again, any of the frustration he may have been feeling hidden behind his studied, calm demeanor. After dismissing Corporal Davis, he resumed his request.

“What I wanted to ask you to do, Mrs. Woodhull, that is … Anna left some of her laundry hanging on the line behind the tavern yesterday. If you would be so kind as to collect her things, I would be most appreciative. I am certain that Anna would be as well. It looks as if it is about to rain.” He paused briefly as if to think, adding “ Ah, as a token of gratitude, you may accompany me in sitting with Mr. Woodhull, that is, the younger Mr. Woodhull, your husband, tonight if you so wish.”

_What was discussed above to spark such a change?_

Mary expressed her genuine appreciation. She asked what Anna’s laundry was doing hanging there, curious to see exactly how much Hewlett was willing to betray.

It made him blush.

“I, well, I suspect she was multi-tasking. Perhaps she had the garments soaking during her shift and hung them to dry before coming home. They must have just been forgotten in all of the hustle last night.” He tried to smile, making them both feel more awkward.

Mary promised to carry out his bidding, leaving letting him think he had done her a kindness. She looked through the window when she was on the street. Hewlett was back to work. The stack of papers seemed to remain untouched.

* * *

 

Martin De Young didn’t question Anna’s undergarments hanging behind his bar, or Mary taking them down. Was this something he used as an advertising gimmick? Years ago Mary would have laughed with her sisters over the absurdity of this, over how banal men were in their desires.

Thinking about what she would have said if she still had people she was able to be close with made her feel all the more alone.

A few spectators gathered to watch her fold the garments, which she could tell had not been properly cleaned.

_Is this marketing or is Mrs. Strong simply the poorest excuse for a wife and woman imaginable? Little wonder Selah didn’t spring from the raft she abandoned him in._

When asked, Mary explained that Anna was sick and had asked her to fetch the laundry before it rained. It was hanging at the tavern because Mary had done her own wash the day prior and there wasn’t space on the line for all of the garments. By the time she was finished everyone had lost interest, no doubt going to invent their own fictions.

She walked down the road to their old house.

“Or, rather, to the former Culper HQ.” she said to herself.

_So that is why Abraham had wanted to rebuild._

Mary saw some of Hewlett’s soldiers searching through the basement where Abe had been held captive. Passing through the overgrown field, damning the weeds for growing where cabbage refused to, she entered the woods.

She felt closer to her husband now than she had in a long while.

_Secret meetings with Anna Strong, acting for Hewlett to help my own cause, hiding messages in trees in woods._

Part of her saw the appeal.

She felt empowered.

She might have thought otherwise if she realized how much company she kept.

When she located the drop box, she found that a note had already been left inside when she went to put her message in. Thinking it for Abe, she pulled it out to read it. Before she had finished unfolding the document, she felt a hand grab her from behind.

“This won’t hurt unless you try to scream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two historical notes this week:  
> In the 18th century wax candles carried an extremely high tax and were not often used even in the wealthiest of households. Tallow candles were also taxed (and sometime before the war began colonists had to surrender their molds to ensure that they were not producing them at home) but at half the rate as those made of wax. They were made of fat, produced more smoke and gave off a strong, distinct smell, yet they burned slower. Still, it was considered wasteful to use a candle at all unless absolutely necessary. So, did Anna find what she was looking for?  
> During that time same period, it was important to have a smooth, pale completion, but as Anna stated, cosmetics were made from lead, which is absorbed through the skin causing a variety of problems including but not limited to head ache, dizziness, nausea, blindness, even death. Everyone knew the risk, practically no one cared, provably for the same reasons that I (and maybe you or people you know) darken my 21st century skin every summer by spending €15 each week to lie in a tanning bed for twenty minutes, knowing full well that I might one day get cancer from that particular exercise in vanity. 
> 
> The confession Mary finds can be read in full if you want to look back to the end of Chapter 3.
> 
> You’ll get to read the other letter I half-typed next time.
> 
> *About the next update* I realized sometime while writing this chapter the impossibility of both telling a halfway decent story and having Anna and Hewlett become the cute couple they were so clearly meant to be in time for Valentine’s Day. Breaks my heart, but in the context of ‘Medusa’ our poor babies have a ways to go. :(
> 
> Part of me really wants to take a two week break and write some cute AU fluff in celebration of the corporate packaging of love and romance; part of me knows my limitations and wants to confess that I have a draft of something called “Mary and Simcoe Hide a Body” saved on my desktop that is just 100% more romantic than this fic has been thus far. (And OMG no, that is not the pairing, or even a pairing. Just a plot point. As is an Anna / Hewlett engagement. *aww*)  
> So … might take a break to write that up because I just feel that I have been evil enough lately?  
> Anyway, we’ll see.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading, leaving kudos and comments and (bookmarks now?!) You guys are so freaking awesome. Küsschen!
> 
> Up next: Vultures and Vouchers


	10. House of Lies, Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hewlett struggles with a few of the decisions he has made of late while he tries to comfort one of his men, tries to sign his name to the charge being brought against Anna, and gets into a heated argument with Judge Woodhull.
> 
> Also, John Andre is onto his shit and is not pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this update took so long to post. I wanted to have something up days ago, but my school workload is killing me this semester, LIGO dropped gravitational waves last week, and two of my best friends got engaged (to each other!) So between dying, geeking out and screaming my mind has just been elsewhere. 
> 
> But I’m back now, and I’ve missed you, and I’ve missed writing dumb notes before the chapter text.
> 
> Two warnings for this update though: Slight allusions throughout to undiagnosed PTSD, mild chemical dependency.

Hewlett waited until the rain had stopped. He waited until the fire had burned itself out and the words on the papers that lay before him were forgotten as quickly as they had been read. He heard his stomach cry in protest though hunger pangs had long since ceased. He felt that he had been at his desk forever. He felt that he wasn’t there at all.

And he wasn’t.

Sometime after receiving his new orders, between having the fireplace lit and watching the flames crackle and spit until he was certain that the two secrets which were still his alone had been reduced to smoke and ash, he realized he was lost. He had been given a task and a deadline and for the first time in his military career his response had been to genuinely do nothing. It was the same route he had often been accused of taking. A line of inaction. A lie he had never troubled himself to correct in times when his mind was otherwise occupied by weighing options and calculating risks.

This was different.

This was empty.

This was void.

This was a starless night.

This was a tarp stretched suddenly across a sky whose pictures he had just been explaining to a captive audience.

_This was itself captivity._

And Hewlett sought no liberation.

Trailed by his guard, he walked in silence. The evening air was cold and moist, his eyes dry by comparison. It was the first sensation he’d been conscious of since having been given the news. He tried to hold on to it for as long as he could before giving into the instinct to rub them. Thoughts then returned in the form dark hypotheticals, awareness dissolved into stress. The fight to hold his own composure felt like a fool’s errand until, by some rare blessing, fate presented him with focus in the form of the far-off figure standing arm-in-arm with one of his soldiers.

He recognized her instantly, though a challenge it was not.

Mary Woodhull could have easily been pegged in a pool of thousands. Pale, pink gowns so heavily adorned with ribbons and bows that those ceased to be accents. Her femininity gave way to eccentricity. Powdered face, porcelain skin, polished and pristine, she would have looked like a child’s plaything left high on the shelf had it not been for the rage in her eyes that broke the well-constructed illusion of docility.

Hewlett didn’t need to meet them tonight for the picture to be tarnished. From a distance he could see that her clothing was damp, suggesting that she had been outside for quite a while. That she had broken curfew. He rushed to meet her, slightly off balance at the heightened pace. He wondered how obvious his deficiency was as he felt the rag - hastily shoved in his boot where his toes had been in order to give the rot they left behind something to scratch against - become dislocated. It irritated the still-healthy skin on the top of his foot to the point that he had to stop a few paces before reaching his target. Hewlett was embarrassed. He felt as if he had just exposed his wound to the world, rather than to the woman who had dressed it, the three soldiers in his guard and the one who seemed to be detaining Mrs. Woodhull. He felt as if it were open, bleeding. He thought of Anna’s words that morning and wondered what other pieces of him had been cut away.

Anna? No. She wasn’t Anna to him anymore. She couldn’t be. She was Mr. Culper. And she would soon face the fate intended by the law and the Lord. The major did his best to again clear his mind of the matter. He still had hours to sign the charge, and immediate measures needed to be taken to sort out why the curfew he had issued that morning had been ignored.

The major took another step forward.

“Anderson!” Hewlett called out from scarcely a meter away.

“Sir!” his ensign saluted, letting Mary’s arm drop.

Hewlett gave no order to stand at ease as he inspected Mrs. Woodhull. He didn’t know what he hoped to find. Her hard expression betrayed nothing or question or guilt. She handed him the bundle of clothing he’d sent her to receive as if the garments were papers that excused her breach. He gave her a stern look as he took them, noting that the task ought to have been completed in less than a half hour.

_This is exactly why I hate working with civilians._

Mary had a shawl which Hewlett recognized as belonging to Anna pulled tightly around her neck and shoulders.

“Ah-”

Following his gaze, she began to explain before having the question put to her. “Forgive me, Major Hewlett, I caught quite a chill walking home. I’ll have this laundered and returned to our dear Anna-”

“You’ll return it to _me_ , Mrs. Woodhull. Might I ask what you are doing out at this hour?”

“I didn’t intend to be out so long, it gets so dark so early this time of year and I-”

“If I may interject” Anderson said, still standing ready, "I saw Mrs. Woodhull wandering her old farmland this afternoon. It was not yet dusk, she seemed deeply confused, repeating that she wished to go home. She seemed to have taken the route to her previous residence in error. I asked her to wait while we finished writing the report you requested so that I might escort her back to Whitehall. Hughes and Miller can attest to this.”

Hewlett gave a motion of his consent. “Very well, Ensign. At ease.” Turning to face Mary, he continued, “Mrs. Woodhull, what _possessed_ you to visit the remains of you prior residence, on _this_ of all days?”

Hewlett’s aggravation gave way to concern as she answered, “After preforming the task you asked of me, my head was so full of worry for Anna, for my husband that I, foolishly lost in my own thoughts, wandered off in the opposite direction of where I was meant to go. It wasn’t until I saw your soldiers rummaging around that I even realized I had made an error. I turned to hurry back but by that point I had been spotted by your good ensign who so chivalrously offered his escort.”

He understood _lost in thought_. He understood it all too well.

_Of course she was. Were that I could also enjoy the benefit of that justification!_

Hewlett paused for a moment, considering that it may have been a careless oversight to task a woman, plagued by rational fears, with a necessary something he had simply been too proud to do himself. And to what end? People would whisper, rumors would spread, regardless if he chose to play an active role or not. And what did it matter? The important thing -the _only_ important thing- was that the rebel beacon had been removed. Still, Hewlett could see that he should not have pressured poor Mrs. Woodhull into aiding a cause that was not her own. Mr. Culper was his windmill, not hers. Mary had doubtlessly spent half the night awake worrying for Abe. Before dawn broke her fear had been validated in one of the worst manners the major could himself imagine. Without being provided with much of an explanation, Mary had been banned her from visiting her husband in recovery. Her friend, who had assisted in his rescue, had been imprisoned within the walls of Whitehall immediately thereafter.

_I brushed off her questions, concerns and protests and arrogantly asked a favor of her in exchange for basic decency! What has this war done to my soul?_

That Mary responded in stark contrast by being so goodly and kind towards him caused the major to see his behavior as all the more inexcusable.

_I have to make things right. But how?_

“I thank you again, truly, Mrs. Woodhull, for the favor you’ve done for me. I wonder if it wasn’t too much of me to ask?”

“No, no, Major. I am always happy to assist you where need be.”

_And your loyalty shall be rewarded._

“As I am at your service.” he smiled. “Mrs. Woodhull, I have had time to reconsider my position with regards to your request to sit with your husband in his recovery. If you will consent to supervision, you may visit with him whenever you so wish.”

Mary looked as if she might well cry as she thanked him, thanks which Hewlett in turn brushed off.

_Your gratitude is misplaced. Your husband is in this predicament because he tied his fate to mine and it will only get worse from here._

But he couldn’t tell her about the orders he had received. He had yet to process them, yet to come to terms with their implications. And Mary - she deserved her joy for as long as it could last.

“Go inside and prepare a light meal for Mr. Woodhull, I’ll be in in a moment to speak with the guard on duty.”

She smiled, nodded, and turned towards the house. Hewlett noted that she seemed to have a mark on her neck he hadn’t noticed earlier that day, but Mary was inside before he could question it.

 _It is dark. All I saw was a shadow,_ he thought, though he somehow couldn’t shake the foreboding sense the _shadow_ seemed to have left him with. _Could she have somehow sustained an injury? No. If something had happened she would have told me. Mrs. Woodhull_ knows _I serve only to protect. And here I am projecting pain onto something I am not sure I saw. Something I am certain I couldn’t have seen._

After Mary had gone, Hewlett turned to address his guard. He ordered them to leave so that they might ensure that the curfew was being enforced. Seeing a slightly stronger display of military presence on the street would do nothing to alleviate fear, but that was not his goal. The colonists were, as a testament to their environment, hardier as most Britons. They didn’t follow orders unless given good reason to, and Hewlett meant for them to believe that they faced a very real threat from the savage tribe his captain had invented. No one in Setauket could have been reasonably persuaded to properly cation themselves against a single man who for some reason seemed to hold a grudge against his superior officer. But manipulation was an art of which Hewlett could claim mastery. He would keep the civilians pusillanimously hiding behind their walls.

For their part, the men of his guard seemed to take on their new assignment with excitement. Patrolling the streets with the goal of ensuring the safety of their friends and neighbors must have felt more interesting and important to the younger men than simply standing around while their boss sipped at his evening tea. Hewlett wondered if he would have been eager for action had his career followed a different trajectory. Somehow he doubted it, which made him all the more grateful to be leading such brave men. Men? No, they were boys for the most part. Boys who had not yet learned the price of glory. Boys who hopefully would not soon have that toll forced upon them.

Anderson, in contrast, was ordered to stay behind. He was not scheduled for the watch that night, and the major was concerned about the effects the morning might have taken on his constitution. After attempting to assure his ensign that he was not in any kind of trouble, Hewlett excused himself briefly. Inside, relieved that Judge Woodhull was locked in a conversation with his daughter-in-law, he hurried up the stairs and gave Beckett his new orders, taking a moment to scold him for allowing Mrs. Woodhull to visit Mrs. Strong earlier that day.

He paused before entering his room, seeing a light flicker from beneath his prisoner’s door. He knew that she had just recently been given her evening meal, the same fare as that enjoyed nightly by Whitehall’s servants. He wondered if she had been provided enough, if she was comfortable, if his current actions would keep her protected in his absence. His thoughts of going to her were dismissed by the realization that he wanted –nay, _needed_ \- a friend right now. He needed someone from whom he could seek comfort. He needed someone who could dispel his fears with a simple smile or light touch. He need _Anna_ , and she likely needed _him_ even more.

But Anna had been killed by Edmond Hewlett, and Samuel Culper neither deserved nor could deliver that what Richard craved.

He entered his chamber instead. After locating the box he had originally come upstairs to retrieve, the major hid the rebel petticoat and the other garments –hung doubtlessly to make the dark underskirt look less conspicuous- within his own wardrobe. He worried that the scent they carried would spread to his own clothing. He worried that it would in turn carry thoughts of Anna, her smile, her laugh, the look of uncertainty she wore when he tried to explain something she had no familiarity with, _the look of indignation she gave him as he said goodbye._

 _It truly was an honor and a pleasure pretending with you, my dearest._ Hewlett thought as he closed the door to his wardrobe, recalling their last words.

He took a deep breath. Anderson was still waiting outside.

* * *

 

“Do you smoke?” Hewlett asked as he packed the pipe he had brought out with him with dried tobacco leaves.

“Me? No sir.” Anderson responded, a hint of judgement in his voice that Hewlett wasn’t sure if he was imagining.

“Pity.” the major commented before taking a puff. “There are times when I’d _swear_ this crop is the single redeeming quality of these colonies.”

Anderson reached for the pipe when it was offered again. After a coughing fit he handed it back, shaking his head. “May I ask sir, what it is we are doing here then?”

_Not everyone’s taste, I suppose._

Hewlett smiled, nicotine’s calming effect beginning to set in. “Enforcing the will of His Royal Majesty, our sovereign King George III. Ensuring that the good people of Setauket enjoy the same rights and freedoms as the residents of London.”

They both laughed at the mantra Anderson had heard his superior cite many times prior. Tonight he clearly wasn’t buying into it. Hewlett himself heard the hypocrisy and absurdity ever present in his words which he was ordinarily keen to ignore.

Anderson shook his head again.

“Were you asking rather what we are doing in the present moment?”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“I should think it rather obvious, ensign. I am trying to enjoy the pleasures of my pipe after what I confess has been the longest day I’ve endued in quite some time whilst you stare at me blankly.”

“Sir, I-“

“Relax, Anderson. I jest. In truth I am keeping you hear because I fear then events of last night should be addressed.”

He tensed. “Sir, I swear on my mother’s health that I’ve not breathed a word about Mr. Woodhull to anyone, not even Mrs. Woodhull, though you should know she was very-”

 _Understandable in her reaction,_ the major though as he interrupted, “Are you alright?”

“Sir?”

“Are you alright, ensign?”

“Sir, I … I, apologize, if you think there has been a flaw in my conduct. When I met Mrs. Woodhull at the farm it was not yet dusk, she seemed confused and disoriented which is why I didn’t issue a warning. I didn’t seem necessary.”

“I know. Truth be told I am rather pleased you used digression. Lord knows the headache you may have spared me. But I asking specifically about last night.”

“Sir?” Anderson seemed lost. Hewlett tried to recall if he had ever had a conversation with the young under officer beyond issuing orders. It wasn’t likely, but then he had never had reason to. The ensign seemed the sort who did merely what was asked of him, allowing his thoughts to play somewhere else while he did. The sight of a bloodied civilian had tarnished his innocence in a way that the major had not anticipated. As a preventive measure, Hewlett had to discern if the damage would be long lasting, if it would negatively impact Anderson’s ability to perform his duty. The major needed all of his men at their fighting best, or, if he had lost that possibility, he needed to know.

“I am, that is to say, rather concerned with regard to the toll it seems to have taken on you. I am granting you permission to speak freely, Anderson.”

“I – you say every morning that we are meant to protect the locals, and, I don’t mean this in the way I am certain it will come off, but, I never quite took the threat they face seriously. I don’t know Mr. Woodhull well, sir, but last night I felt I failed him. That I failed you and the crown, that if I had just listened to begin with this wouldn’t have happened and -” his rhythm of speech quickened with every word, his pitch becoming ever higher.

_This isn’t good._

“Anderson, listen to me. Mr. Woodhull is alive right now thanks to your efforts. You followed my orders explicitly regardless of your personal assessment. It actually” he paused, wondering if an admission would bring anyone comfort beyond himself. “Ensign, you taught me something last night by way of example which I confess I ought to have understood before accepting this command, and I truly thank you for it.”

“For what, sir? If I may ask.”

“Anderson, there is a clear difference between digression and oversight. Commands are meant to be followed even if there is room for question. I believe we all lose sight of what is important at times. That said, you’ve proven yourself capable even when faced with doubt. _You helped save a life._ You needn’t subject yourself to further questions of adequacy.”

Hewlett took another puff while his ensign considered his words. To his mild surprise and great relief, they seemed to quiet inner demons of his subordinate.

“I learned that all from you, Major Hewlett.” Anderson smiled. It was weak, but genuine.

Hewlett questioned if he had any right to accept the gracious sentiment.

“Yes, well, ah, that is rather kind. Part of me quite needed to hear that.”

“When you were gone, I, we all, even Wakefield, we all wanted to form a rescue party but the Captain said that our orders were to protect the arsenal and with the Rangers here-”

“You all did very well.” Hewlett had had this part of the conversation more times and with more men then he could count. The only thing that continuously proved more painful than the memories of his imprisonment was learning that it had had a traumatizing effect on his troops as well. He wondered if it really did them any good to address it, he wondered if they were stronger than he was for being able to do so.

Anderson continued, his voice now modulated, “None of us felt as if we’d been able to do enough. But you came back and, well, am I still at liberty to speak freely, sir?”

“Yes.” Hewlett replied, pulling himself out of the trap that was his mind, “Of course you can.”

“Is it true that you are going to leave us again?”

_My, how quickly word spreads._

“Where did you hear that?”

“There is a rumor.”

“There are a lot of rumors about me, ensign.”

“So it is _not_ true that Major Andre requested that you join him in York City?”

_Requested? If only._

“It is not completely false, I fear.”

“When you get promoted, what will become of us? I mean with the savages and the Rangers and the Rebels and Robert Rogers?”

_When I get promoted?! I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired forthwith!_

“There are no savages, Ensign. Captain Simcoe’s vendetta is against me personally and if I am unable to return to Setauket I consider it highly unlikely that he will chose to station his troops here. The Continental Outpost was obliterated and Washington seems to be concentrating his troops in an effort to take back York City. Rogers will find out soon enough that he has no business here and cannot possibly hope to fight our regiment. I believe in you. _In all of you_.”

“Will Wakefield take over your post?”

“I don’t know. It will take a few weeks to get this whole mess sorted and I shouldn’t think that I will have anything to do with these types of administrative decisions by that point.”

“We are happy for you, sir.” Anderson said with sadness.

“Do you wish for a transfer? Perhaps I could put in a request for you prior to my departure.”

“No, sir. I am quite happy here. Well. I could be. Or could have been, that is. Maybe.”

_You and I both. Poor thing, there is hope for you yet._

“With the lovely Miss Greene, you mean?”

“How did you-”

“No one enjoys anonymity in a small town I’m afraid.” Hewlett all but laughed.

“Then you know I messed up.”

The major was glad they were addressing this. If Anderson could express that he was heartsick, his other doubts and concerns were sure to fade. He had something, someone to fight for. How Hewlett envied him as he did his best to bestow advice he knew had no right giving.

“I know that you are both very young. I know that your orders changed and you were forced to cancel the plans you had set. But I also know that if she didn’t care for you, it wouldn’t have upset her so. Talk to her, Anderson.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Hewlett didn’t respond as he smoked the last of his pipe.

“Sir, if you worried, I mean, I’ve never seen you smoke before-”

“It is true, I try not to make a habit of it.”

“I know I am overstepping, but you shouldn’t be nervous. Just tell Mrs. Strong about your upcoming promotion. I am sure she will be happy for you as we all are, and if not, it means _she likes you_ , right?”

 _Your logic is flawless_. Hewlett shook his head. He wished he had friends or confidants who weren’t underlings or enemies. He wished he was staying in Setauket. He wished he would be able to preside over the trial Anna would soon face as he’d intended to. He wished Anderson was correct in either of his assessments. He wished that Anna – _no_. He had burned that bridge.

He wished that he was already gone.

“Go talk to her, Ensign.”

“Is that an order sir?” the boy smiled.

* * *

 

As Major Hewlett had expected, Judge Woodhull was positioned to corner him as soon as he walked inside. After exchanging a customary greeting, Woodhull invited Hewlett into his study where he presented him with the bookmarked manuals and court transcripts he had located in relation to the major’s request. Before Hewlett could so much as thank him, the magistrate presented him with the charge he had written up.

“I trust you have had sufficient time to think the matter through, Major?”

“Indeed, your honor.” He skimmed through the paperwork. Everything seeming to be in order, but, as he had realized before, that that alone would not be enough.

“How soon do you think we can bring this matter to trial?”

The judge seemed taken aback by Hewlett’s urgent tone. The two men knew each other too well. Hewlett thought often about the strange relationship they shared - partially professional, partially familiar, and at times completely tense. The judge often seemed to think of Hewlett as more of an adoptive son than an overlord, a sentiment the major found that he shared, enjoyed even. One role filled an obligation, the other filled a void. The major and his civil liaison were largely able to balance the dual parts they played with one another -

That was, of course, unless _Anna Strong_ was being discussed.

_This is what you want, isn’t it? Have we not spent the past two years locked in this debate? I expected to find you as eager to wash your hands of this matter as I._

“Assuming Mrs. Strong contests this charge, her solicitor will be granted sufficient time to prepare a defense-” his tone was raised. This was a lecture Hewlett had been given before. This was ‘ _she doesn’t care for you, she is a viper and a whore and you are a fool’_ put into legal jargon.

Hewlett would _not_ be made to feel like a disobedient child. Especially when he could not see any question of agreement. He ignored the rest of what Woodhull said.

_Albeit for conflicting reasons, we have the same goal. We would both see Mrs. Strong serve time._

“As we discussed this morning your honor, this is a matter of my word against hers. I have sufficient reason to believe that Mrs. Strong is too proud to deny the accusations made against her.”

“Major Hewlett, I have no wish to contradict you, but I have known Anna Strong her entire life. I do not know her to be of that sort of innocence.”

“I never claimed she was innocent, Judge Woodhull, I claimed that she was honest.”

“That is another point I fear I must contest.”

“You don’t know her as I do, you honor.”

Woodhull took a moment to assess the situation. Hewlett understood the confusion, but his resolve was unyielding. His magistrate _ought_ to do well to understand that his role here was simply to serve, not to question. _Can you not simply content yourself with a moral victory and let this pass?_ The major did not want to be thrown back into the role of Anna Strong’s protector as he was trying to have her condemned, even if it was for her own good.

“May I inquire what the rush is?”

_Do I owe you an answer?_

“I am holding out the hope that I can get her to agree to a plea deal, but should this matter go to trial I would like to have the opportunity to personally monitor the proceedings.”

The judge nodded slowly as understanding began to set it.

“Am I to take that to mean that it is true that you will be leaving us?” he asked without any obvious inflection, though his expression indicated that he’d somehow taken the rumored promotion as a betrayal.

“That is a conversation I would rather not have at the moment.”

“I see.”

_You don’t._

“Let me give then you a word of advice, Major.” he said as he handed Hewlett a quill and inkwell. “Let her go before you do.”

“I mean to.” he confessed. Hearing his own sentiment only caused him doubt.

 _She is no more Anna Strong than I am Edmond Hewlett. Except that I am, in truth, all that I’m not. No, no I must stop -if I am to save her I can’t continue thinking of_ us _outside of the terms dictated by this conflict._ Nothing _is real but the war. Forgetting that may have already sealed my fate. But not hers. She can still find salvation if I remain strong. If I act._

Hewlett read the document in full. He was sure that Anna would confess to these charges. An individual involved in the rescue of a British spy could surely avoid any later accusations of espionage. Anna was exceedingly clever when she was being practical. Hopefully over the course of her reduced sentence she would come to see the errors of her ways. She would have enough distance from Major Tallmadge and the rest of the ring to reconsider her role in it. It was ironic that she would need to be jailed to find the freedom she sought.

_And I won’t be around to rejoice with her when she does._

Hewlett dipped the quill in the inkwell as Woodhull watched with anticipation. He began to sign his name, slowly, with purpose. He wrote three letters before becoming paralyzed by regret.

**_Ric -_ **

* * *

 

_“Don’t pretend to know my heart, Anna.”_

_“And don’t play with mine, Richard.”_

_Hearing her speak his given name stopped him in his tracks._

_“What did you just call me?”_

_Anna pulled her lips into a smile without breaking her cold, fixed glare. She knew. In hindsight he realized she had likely always known; so many of her recent misfortunes owing themselves, after all, to his signature. Hewlett wasn’t sure what surprised him more; that she had in fact known his Christian name, or, that she had called him Edmond at his request for so long. Why stop?_

_He had played with her. Did she need to make it clear that she had been playing with him too?_

* * *

 

How he wished she had never confessed to espionage, that he had never accused her, had never found evidence of her involvement. He wished that he had pardoned Selah Strong, had never auctioned off his possessions, had never placed his charming wife in a hopeless situation. He wished that Anna had left on the boat. He wished that he had never had any reason to pretend to himself that she was something she was not; that he had never pretended to be someone he was not, not to her. He wished that he knew her. He wished she didn’t know him.

He wished they had never so much as spoken.

He was sloppy. He had gotten too close, he had dropped his guard too much, and now she left him no choice but to follow through with his threats. He tried to steady his hand.

**_Richar-_ **

It was better this way. How could he expect to protect her from herself when he might not even be associated with the army in a few weeks? But to have Anna jailed? Maybe the case would be appealed, maybe she could argue that he had abused his power -

He wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t.

* * *

 

_“Don’t leave.” the anger in her voice vanished, leaving only emptiness. Somehow the lack of tone in her two word request was more wounding than any of the horrible accusations she had made._

_“I have nothing more to say to you, Mrs. Strong.”_

_“But there is so_ very _much we need to discuss.”_

_“I fear that we have said enough, both of us.”_

_“Who is Edmond?” she asked for the third time._

Who is Edmond? The man I wish I had been allowed to be. The man you made me. The man you buried.

_“Why, honestly, of every messy detail that defines us is that the one that you press? Who is Samuel?” he countered._

_“A name that was given to me. That I gave to you when asked.”_

_“Ah! Let’s make things perfectly clear, Mrs. Strong,_ _I_ didn’t _ask_.”

_“You never approach anything directly though, do you?” It was a challenge, but not a threat. He was again caught off-guard._

What has changed for you, Anna? _he wondered._ What has changed _in_ you? Certainly _not_ your politics.

_“That is unfair. How many times did I offer my help? How many times did I openly plead with you to accept it?”_

_“Your_ help _was to lock me up.”_

_“No. My help was repeatedly offering you redemption only to be refused time and again. Locking you up? That you can blame on your own refusal.”_

_She jumped up as he abruptly turned to leave, rushing to place herself between his hand and the door._

_“Don’t go. Please. Not like this. We’re friends, Richard, no matter how much it may pain you. We’re friends. And this is_ not _how friends treat one another.”_

_“But you don’t want my friendship, Anna. Dare I suggest you never have? You want my protection, my submission. You want me to join your wicked cause. And to what end? The only thing I could hope to offer you is a way out.”_

_“How can you say that? How_ dare _you say that?!”_

_“You said it yourself. Now if you will excuse me-”_

_“I won’t!”_

_He brought his hand to her shoulder, gently maneuvering her to the side as he brought her other hand to his lips._

_“It has been an honor and a pleasure pretending with you, Mrs. Strong.” he said as he opened the door._

_“Whatever you may think, I believed every moment of it.”_

_“As did I, for a time.”_

* * *

 

**_Richard Hewl-_ **

_I believe in her still,_ he realized.

He believed in her at least as much as he doubted himself.

“Your honor, I … I can’t.” Hewlett tore the charge in two. He was about to apologize for wasting the court’s time when he noticed the look of disgust the magistrate was giving him.

“I’ll be forced to release her.” he warned.

“We can hold her until morning if I am not mistaken.”

“What purpose does that serve? I will not have my house used as your personal prison, Major. Not when the prisoner in question threated the life of my son. I saw this coming. I saw it. Why are you so eager to talk yourself out of logical, legal action where _that woman_ is involved?”

“ _That woman_ is the _only_ reason your son still lives. Hold her until morning and release her then. It may well solve your problem of having her in your home.”

Anna was better off in the tavern. If she spent the night locked up she might lower her expectations of their _friendship_. She needed to. He needed her to. Hewlett saw that the British officer whom Anna ought to have the most protection from was him. It hurt to admit, but creating a physical distance between them would solve at least half of their shared problems.

“You mean to have her thrown out of Whitehall come tomorrow?” the judge seemed as shocked to be asking this question as Hewlett was appalled to hear it so phrased.

_No. Because Anna was right. I never do seem able to handle matters directly. Hopefully she will behave in her own self-interest._

“ _Of course not_. Should Anna however chose to leave Whitehall of her own accord, which I fear is a very real possibility, I’ll be expecting my deposit on her rent back.” It had been heavy sum, a huge argument, a small victory for both men. Richard Woodhull was as unlikely to want the topic revisited as Richard Hewlett. He wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t have reason to believe that the judge would otherwise seize this as an excuse to behave horribly towards Mrs. Strong who had paid enough of a price already.

_So you’ve no reason to even consider making yourself a factor in this matter._

“Which you _fear is a possibility_ … Major Hewlett, if I may, Mrs. Strong is not the sort of woman I feel a man of your esteem ought to risk-”

He knew he shouldn’t let himself get baited into indulging the judge’s tendency to belittle him through his assertions about Anna. Perhaps it was owed to exhaustion, perhaps to lingering affection, or perhaps Hewlett subconsciously felt the lecture was deserved, regardless, he bit.

“What exactly? My career over, my honor?”

_She has all but ruined me on both counts._

“Your own standing in the community, sir. If Anna wants to leave, let her go. Do it tonight. _Do it now._ Every moment she spends within these walls tarnishes your name as well as that of Whitehall. The Smiths are known patriot sympathizers. For a Major to involve himself with the daughter of -”

Anna was nearly thirty and he was forty-four. And Richard Woodhull should learn his place.

“Hold your tongue sir! Anna Strong is _not_ her father and _I am not your son!_ ”

“And yet you still insist on mocking me within my own home. No Richard, you are no son of mine. My boy died in the line of duty, if you continue to spit on my advice I am all but certain that you’ll die _neglecting_ yours.”

Hewlett had no comeback. Judge Woodhull was right on every count, and, though the justice himself had no way of knowing it at the time, Major Andre was awaiting Hewlett in York City, disposed to turn Woodhull’s final denouncement into prophecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I planned to include the discussion Hewlett and Davis had in Chapter 9 while Mary stole some of the major’s paperwork in this update, but then I realized that was *not* how I wanted to introduce Andre into the narrative.  
> We will meet him soon enough, as we will the rest of the Culper Ring, Akinbode ... haven't quite made up my mind about Simcoe, but stay tuned.
> 
> By the way, I’m on tumblr now, so if you are so inclined feel free to hit me up: tavsancuk.tumblr.com  
> Sometimes I even post Turn stuff, not going to front though, it is pretty nerdy as far as blogs go. But it is there and I follow back.
> 
> Thanks as always your continued readership, comments, and kudos. You guys are the best! See you next week. Küsschen!
> 
> Next time: Keep it in the family


	11. House of Lies, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary tries to figure out how to exploit Whitehall’s changing dynamics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter actually made me really sad, which half explains why I am posting it a day later than I’d hoped to.

 

She watched the major as he ate without etiquette, the knife and fork he held never being granted a moment’s reprieve from his grasp. A critique of his hosts when he was of sound mind. It was the same way she had seen him eat in the days that followed his return from the rebel outpost. Had he been starved? Had he picked up on Continental mannerisms? Mary glanced down at her own hands.

_Right hand – fork._

_Left hand – lap._

_A perfect mimic of English high society,_ she thought, allowing herself a moment of pride before her nerves again overwhelmed her.

She remembered how difficult it had been to implement the practice of hand switching when she had first come to Whitehall. She remembered how Hewlett’s broad lips quickly formed themselves into a tight smile each time she noticed him noticing her, silently condemning her act of colonial barbarism. It had done nothing to rid his eyes of their judgement.

 _Hold the fork in your left hand, the knife in your right as you make your cut – Place the knife down – Take the fork in your right hand before bringing it to your mouth – Repeat._ Mary observed. Mary took note. Mary practiced. She practiced when she was alone and no one was there to appreciate her efforts. She practiced when she was cutting food for Thomas. She practiced when she lunched with her friends, unable to keep up with the conversation as she recalled how Hewlett ate. How he seemed to except those who dined with him to eat.

And now? Her fork was in her right hand, the small piece of meat she had cut still clutching to it. Her knife rested on the side of the plate.

It was then she realized that she had yet to take a bite.

“Are you feeling unwell, Mrs. Woodhull?” Hewlett asked.

Father glared at him as if he had no right to speak to her before restating the question.

“Quite, you needn’t concern yourselves on my account. My appetite is simply lacking.” she responded with a smile before taking a bite of something tasteless that had also grown cold. She then gave her emptied fork back over to her left hand, as if this was something which anyone would perceive to be a natural action. Hewlett didn’t seem to notice.

“Ah – forgive my persistence, Mrs. Woodhull, but are you quite certain? You look a bit -” he gestured with his finger, moving it in a circle around his face. “If I ought to call the doctor, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I admit that I feel partially responsible and I -”

“Oh do you now?” Father coughed. Hewlett shot a sideways glance at him, but refused to acknowledge his comment further. His lack of commitment to the dual seemed only to deepen the tension.

Mary had heard part of their argument. That was to say, rather, that she had heard then end of its latest round. Father was bitter even in victory, Hewlett seemed at least resigned to, if not gracious in, his defeat. She might have pitied him had she not herself been forced to fight the same battles. Mary knew the torment of loving someone from across a political divide. She knew the hell that was Richard Woodhull’s disapproval. But she also knew how to emerge unscathed. When the major was stoic he was relatable. When he was irritable he was a chore.

When Mary looked at him now, all she saw was another mess she would have to clean up.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, adding a fit of forced laughter for effect. “No, no, I’ve not fallen ill! I’ve very recently sworn off powder.” she paused. _And now for_ y _et another miserable task that Anna has left me to carry out on her behalf._ “Were the two of you aware that prolonged usage can lead to lead poisoning?”

Father studied Hewlett’s impossibly pale face. He smiled in a slight, mocking manner. “No, I’ve never heard that before, but it would _certainly_ explain a great deal.”

“It is rubbish,” the major countered, looking at her, though Mary suspected that he was in truth speaking to her father-in-law.

She wondered if she had underestimated the severity of their shared hostility as he continued.

“I’ve been to the Royal Academy of Science on multiple occasions. Were there any validity to that claim; I find it _highly_ unlikely that the most respected minds in Britain would -” his voice lost its quality of assurance as he softly continued, “would knowingly put themselves at risk.”

_You’ve ceased speaking of Britain’s most respected minds, have you not?_

Hewlett glanced down. For the first time he seemed to notice his proletarian utensil placement. He looked humiliated as he quickly adjusted his hands. A deep blush leaked through his powdered skin, spreading across his wide cheekbones as glanced up to check if his slip had been noticed.

Mary smiled. Father sighed. Hewlett continued where he had left off.

“At any rate, Mrs. Woodhull, I have certain doubt that anyone is at risk from the use of cosmetic. I have myself occasionally been known to employ loose powder.”

“A ringing endorsement.” the judge shook his head.

“Is there something you wish to say to me, Your Honor?” Hewlett inquired. His tone had changed enough that Mary questioned if she ought to brace herself for round two. _No,_ she swore to herself, _not at_ my _dinner table, not if I have anything to say about it._

“I am only questioning if these members of your intellectual elite might not be engaged in the same base practice of keeping up appearances as the rest of us.” Father responded, pushing his emptied plate to the side.

Hewlett glanced at his hands again. He hadn’t moved them since recognizing his faux pas. His eyes now fixed downward, Mary observed the rest of his face. Hewlett could shift his expression from cordial to livid with a slight change in tension. His jaw seemed to tighten. Mary was resolved to speak before he had the chance to settle on a few choice words.

_Allowing hostilities to escalate will not serve me._

“I dare say!” she laughed, “It sounds as though you are both implying that I look simply wretched.”

As she had hoped, attention was shifted back to her. Both men were quick to apologize, offering corrections and amendments. Her natural beauty was artificially praised. Mary knew she must have looked red and blotchy, owing as much to her nerves as to the extreme heat she forcing herself to endure under Anna’s shawl. She brought her hands up to her face as if to mimic a blush.

 _Misdirection._ She laughed to herself. _They have no idea._

* * *

Mary had spent a rather long time with Abe upon returning to Whitehall.

It had been less than an hour, but circumstance had forced Abe to be present for its entirety. Beaten but far from broken, she found him sitting in the middle of their shared bed. Mary rushed to embrace him as Beckett looked on. Clandestinely, she had slipped the folded letter Anna had given to her into the back of his night shirt, insisting that he lie back down. He appeared to have comprehend her actions despite his disorientation. Pretending to rest as to best conceal the note on which his future rested, he nodded slowly and asked about their son.

Time slipped away unnoticed as they spoke. Abe seemed grateful for the company, though she suspected that he had been anxious for her to leave with the ensign so that he might read the message she had been sent to deliver. He didn’t speak of his capture, and she didn’t ask. But he didn’t seem to blame her as she did herself. Perhaps she had been able to make amends. Perhaps he was, in truth, only performing for Beckett’s behalf. But for Mary, for a moment, it was a marriage.

Mary had taken the guard change as her leave. She grabbed an old Brunswick with a high neckline from their wardrobe and rushed off to change in the nursery where she had slept the night prior. As she undressed, she heard the servants ring a bell to signal that dinner was ready to be served. Mary realized that she would not be able to quickly free herself from her bodice without assistance. She thought of calling for Aberdeen, but recognized instantly that in doing so she risked exposure. Aberdeen would surely tell her master about the bruising immediately. And Mary could _not_ allow that.

* * *

 

In the dining room she wished she had thought to put on a lighter shawl as opposed to attempting a complete wardrobe change. Anna’s was uncomfortably warm indoors. Grey wasn’t anymore Mary’s color as brocade was her style. She wondered if her dinner companions would have noticed, would have been put off, had they not been more interested in their argument. She wondered if Abe had noticed. She wondered if he ever did.

Mary sighed deeply. A surge of pain ran through her shoulders. Had she not fought back has hard as she had, she would not have sustained injury. Most of the pressure that had caused the contusion came from her own somewhat involuntary jolts. She remembered being told to visibly struggle, but not scream. She remembered wondering if the gun pointed at her was loaded, fear perhaps forcing a better performance from her than she might have otherwise put on. Had the former Ranger bought it? Had the rebel courier escaped after they parted? Did things like this regularly happen on the outskirts of town without the knowledge of the garrison?

 _No,_ she decided. _Hewlett knows what goes on._ _At least, he appears to know enough to prove himself a risk to my husband, who is already enough of a risk unto himself._

Mary watched the major as he spoke with her father-in-law in veiled vituperations, imaging the exchange of words she had missed earlier. She was, in the end, unable to stop them from mounting moral attacks against each other. She tried to take note, but it was nothing she had not heard a thousand times prior. Hewlett might have believed in whole-heartedly in his crusade. But Father? Father was a fool. He seemed to be set on making an enemy of the one man upon whose favor the future of their family relied. If he were smart, he would support Hewlett in his misguided affection. Father certainly knew enough of what was going on under his roof to encourage the major’s obsession. He knew of Abe’s patriot leanings, of his treasonous undertakings, of his wife’s now willing assistance. To Mary, it was clear; if Anna were to leave Whitehall, the Woodhull’s risked finding themselves in Hewlett’s focus.

And Abe simply wouldn’t be clever enough to be able outwit him if Anna hadn’t been.

_But Father doesn’t know that yet, does he?_

_He doesn’t know that Anna is in truth being jailed for crimes for which Abe would hang._

_But what Father_ does _know, what he most assuredly knows, is that that major is very suggestable._

_Is he in fact so intent on making sure that Abe learns his lesson that he is willing to make such a gamble?_

Mary considered the possibility that it was she, rather than Father, who misjudged Hewlett’s intentions. Experience told her that the appearance of unfaltering support would work in her favor. The trouble was, she could not figure out exactly what is was the major sought.

He had drawn nudes of Anna, written poems about her, and yet rejected her affections when they were offered. Mary was tempted to think, as Anna herself did, that this had all been for cover. However, if that were that the case, what did he gain from continuing to act as if he had conflicting feelings for a forbidden fruit? Hewlett had jailed the beer wrench on charges which to Mary seemed erroneous. Charges which his conversation with Father suggested that he wouldn’t sign. He had evidence of her illegal under takings, which he seemed to be hiding rather than processing. He had gone so far as to hastily discarded a signed confession!

But then there was the matter of the letter he would never send.

The letter which she had stolen from his fire pit and had been forced to surrender to the rebels.

The letter which, for all of its superfluous sentiment, seemed to only say one thing: _I’m a British officer._

Perhaps Father saw the lies that existed between the major and the rebel for what they really were and was trying to provoke Hewlett into carrying out orders he seemed to lack the stomach for. Perhaps he was trying to revive the man against whom he seemed favorable by comparison. The man who seemed to lack a beating heart.

Mary wondered if Hewlett had a heart at all.

She took another few bits of food.

 _Left-right-left-right-left. Soldiers eat as they march._ The thought gave her chills.

Father’s conversation with Hewlett had spun itself into another stalemate. Conversation ceased, agitation remain. If they were retiring the scripts from which they had been reading since the night Hewlett had invited Anna to attend the party she had thrown in his honor, Mary had nothing to gain from sitting at the table. It was a poor gauge of the major’s motives to begin with. Sometimes a new argument would enter into the dialog, but with Hewlett always forced into defense, Mary couldn’t gain the insight she sought. He could well be in love with Anna Strong, he could harbor sympathies to her cause as well as to her plight; but it was equally likely that the urge to simply quarrel with Richard Woodhull proved too great for the major to resist.

Sitting at the table exposed her. Her face had already caused comment. She shifted to itch at the back of her neck against the garment responsible for her discomfort, finding no relief in the act. Mary had to get out of the shawl. She had to get out of the room.

“If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I believe it is time for me to retire.”

Father nodded. Hewlett stood to escort her, but she declined his unspoken offer.

As she entered the lobby he called after her.

“Mrs. Woodhull! You… please wait. What has happened?”

“What do you mean, Major?”

“Your … your neck, may I take a look?”

_My neck._

She thought she was covered. She felt covered. She felt hot and itchy under the dark, heavy material. Mary wondered if this was how Abe was forced to think as she found herself wondering if she hadn’t been lead into a trap set by Hewlett’s calculated detachment. _Was he attentive the whole time? Had his lapse in table manners been another ruse?_

_No. I can fix this._

She adjusted the shawl once more, trying to feel if it had slipped when she rose.

“It is nothing, I promise I am fine.”

“What happened? I am afraid I must insist.” He was gentle but firm. Mary tightened her grip on the shawl, fearing that it might otherwise slide as she turned back to face him. Father approached her as well.

She suddenly felt more sympathy for her hapless coconspirators than she ever thought possible.

“As must I. Mary, remove that -”

“It is nothing.” she repeated, this time addressing the judge.

Neither of the two men seemed willing to accept her at her word.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to escape, Mary realized that the more she played off her light injuries, the more suspect she would seem. Reluctantly, she let the shawl fall from her neck and shoulders. Hewlett moved to examine her while her father-in-law gave her a look of condemnation.

“Mrs. Strong’s laundry proved heavier than I had anticipated.” Mary explained. “Perhaps I simply carried it too long, I didn’t even notice the mark the weight must have left on me until I went to feed Thomas. But I promise, it is nothing the two of you need concern yourselves over.”

Father bought her weak excuse if only on the grounds that it served his argument. Hewlett was impossible to read, but then Mary no longer held his attention. War had resumed, and Judge Woodhull had his cannons ready.

“You’ll do well, Major Hewlett, to remove _that whore_ from my home this instant. _Can you honestly not see that her mere presence in your life causes harm to the members of my family_?” he grabbed at Mary for emphasis, causing her more pain than she had endured in the fake struggle with the other courier. Hewlett was quick to remove Father’s hand from where it met her lightly bruised skin. If Mary hadn’t been so near, she would not have heard the words that followed.

“How dare you, sir. If I ever hear you, or hear of you speaking of Mrs. Strong in those terms again -”

A fragment. A whisper. An open threat. Hewlett stood on the balls of his feet as he hissed through clenched teeth, his face mere inches away from that of the judge.

Father took a step back, his eyes widening as Hewlett’s narrowed.

“I perhaps misspoke in my anger.”

“You misspoke.” Hewlett agreed without inflection. Drawing from their earlier discussion, he continued. “Mrs. Strong will stay in lock up until morning. It is in _your_ best interest, it is in _her_ best interest, and it is critical to _my_ design. I won’t be questioned, Your Honor. And I won’t stand by as you insinuate that the woman to whom I offer my protection is impure. That my relationship to her is anything but honorable. Remember that you serve your post in this town at _my_ pleasure and do mark that you are over-playing your hand.”

The judge was silenced, allowing Hewlett’s regard to return to Mary.

“Mrs. Woodhull, if there is anything I can offer by way of apology, you needn’t hesitate to ask.” Mary shook her head.

_I already have what I want. You may have won this round against Father, but in doing so you’ve exposed the hole in your defenses._

Hewlett excused himself after thanking her once more, apologizing for the spat that she witnessed, and shooting another glare at Father as he said good night.

Mary was ready to pursue him, ready to exploit his confusion and heartbreak, when she found herself the new target of the judge’s slander.

“This wouldn’t had happened if you hadn’t allowed another woman into your marriage.” Father remarked, glancing at her shoulder again when Hewlett was halfway up the stairs.

“No, Father. _None_ of this wouldn’t have happened had you stood behind your son.”

She pulled up her petticoat and preceded to march.

* * *

 

“Wait.” she called out as Hewlett opened the door to his room.

“Ah, Mrs. Woodhull!” he smiled. Mary wished he hadn’t bothered. Hewlett looked so gentle when his grins were genuine, so harsh when they were forced. “Was there something else I could do for you? Have you changed your mind about seeing a physician?” he asked quickly. Before she could answer he continued, this time with active interest, “It seems well, rather … unusual that one would obtain such a bruise from carrying a sack of clothing.”

“No, no, I am fine, I assure you.”

“Mrs. Woodhull, ought we to be speaking in private?” He reached out to touch her shoulder. She was determined not to flinch. “This seems intentional, as if force was used against you.”

This was exactly what she’d feared.

“Major Hewlett, if you are suggesting -”

“I am not suggesting, I am merely inquiring.”

“I -”

“Out of concern, Mrs. Woodhull. Come.” She followed him into his chamber, leaving the door open behind her. “May I? - Hm. It is not as extensive as I originally feared. - However, will you be so kind as to tell me what really happened?”

Sitting beside the major, Mary could smell tobacco. It was sweet and strong like a nervous sweat. She wasn’t as much surprised by the sent as she was put off by it. Hewlett seemed tired and world-weary and half-present. She didn’t want to answer his questions. She didn’t want to awaken his concern. She wanted to be in control of the conversation.

She wanted to present him with a mirror and leave him to be devoured by his inner demons.

 _He appreciates honesty, rather, he is under the impression that he does. What he really wants is to cultivate situations that allow him to ignore the unflattering aspects of his character,_ Mary though as she measured her response. _Playing the victim will allow him to play the hero, but what can I say without alerting him to my role in the Ring?_

 _What can I say that won’t force him to_ be _alert?_

“This afternoon while on Strong Manor, after I had finished folding Anna’s laundry, someone grabbed me from behind and told me not to move.”

“Who? Do you know?” he seemed to have his suspicions.

_Not good._

“I don’t, I never saw his face.”

“And this happened by the tavern?” the major clarified.

Mary hoped she hadn’t misspoke, that the tavern wasn’t the usual exchange point. _Wouldn’t that be too public? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the Ring to carry out its operations in the woods? Of course, leave it to the Culpers to handle their affairs in a way that allows for the worst possible outcomes!_

Hewlett stared at her without blinking. She wondered if he could read her worry.

_Little wonder that Anna cracked._

He pressed his lips together in anticipation.

Changing details of her lie would give him more grounds on which to press her, she realized, and so she carried on.

“Behind it, yes. Where the line is.”

“Can you describe the voice you heard to me?”

“Not really. He barely spoke, and I was so startled. Luckily some of your soldiers happened to be ending their lunch break. He must have decided to flee when he saw them coming out, but I can’t be sure. Even after I was sure he had gone, I was afraid to turn around.”

“And then you were disoriented and took the wrong path. Mrs. Woodhull -” she could hear in the softening pitch of his voice that she had won his sympathy. Hewlett buried his brow in his palms.

“You needn’t waste words, Major Hewlett I should be the one to apologize.”

“What would make you say that?”

“I should have told you immediately. I should have told Anderson immediately, or any of the good men I saw directly after the fright had passed. I should have told you the truth when you questioned me downstairs although I feared Father’s reaction. I hadn’t anticipated that he would find cause to anger, regardless of my excuse.” She wondered if it worth the risk to appeal to the major’s good graces on Father’s behalf. _Why not? Even under stress he is always keen to prove himself the bigger man._ With factitious reserve she continued, “I ask that you pardon his outburst, I am certain he was under shock.”

“He cares for you. That part I understand. And he was right, I shouldn’t have asked you to go. It was my mess to clean up.” He paused as he searched for a lie of his own to tell. “More than likely you were assaulted by a mere drunkard. De Young attracts a mixed crowd and I should not have risked subjecting you to such vile company. Do pardon my misassessment and accept my sincerest apologies for the pain you suffered on my behalf. ”

_My mess to clean up. We seem to have an understanding, Major Hewlett._

Mary let silence settle in, she let Hewlett grow uncomfortable in it. When she felt his weight shift, suggesting that he was about to break it by ever so gently asking her to leave so that he might retire for the evening, she spoke to the topic which she had come to address.

“You should speak with her.”

“Hm?”

“Our dearest Anna.”

“It is late.”

“It is not, you may be tired, but you are awake, and I expect she is as well.”

Hewlett seemed lost in thought.

“What did you really discuss this afternoon her in cell?”

“I’ve confessed that much to you. Anna suffers an irrational fear that you may never talk to her again.”

After eternity passed in another of his pauses, the major asked, “What makes you say that her fear is irrational?”

_Stubborn, are we?_

Mary smiled. “It is beneath either of you to hold a grudge, beyond which, Setauket is a small town.” It was flattery paired with logic. Victory seemed to be in sight. Hewlett would go heart-in-hand to his lady-love, and Anna would either be dumb or pragmatic enough to accept him.

Hewlett was quiet as he rose. He shifted where he stood as if he were want to pace.

“I’m leaving. Setauket.” He said, clearly if fragmented. The words didn’t seem to belong together as he tried again, this time more successfully, to form them into a full sentence. “I’m leaving Setauket.”

Mary was shocked.

She should have asked ‘what?’ - or rather- ‘when?’, but instead, dumbfounded, she responded, “Because of Anna?”

“I suppose, in the most roundabout of ways.” Hewlett regretted his words them moment he spoke them, adding, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“But?” she coaxed. He seemed to be holding back tears. Their interactions over the course of the day suddenly made sense. This must have been why he seemed so shaken since speaking with his messenger. Mary saw her opportunity to play at being his ‘friend’. She couldn’t let it pass.

“Mrs. Woodhull, do you remember the work I had Abraham do for me in in York City?”

 _What has Abe to do with this?_ Mary felt her throat contracting.

“It isn’t easily forgotten.”

“Ah – yes well. Yes. I imagine it wouldn’t be.”

“What about it?”

“Evidently the report we wrote to the man to whom I report on such matters raised some questions.”

_Do I detect anger?_

Hewlett continued, “Not the least of which was what I was doing, sending a farmer to play spy in a different county when I’ve been - how was it put? - _neglecting my responsibilities to British Intelligence as defined by my post_. I am meant to appear before Central Command to answer for my actions.” He shook his head as he spoke to himself. “Why should I be surprised? Does the Good Book not teach us  <<Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.>>?”

As much as Mary tried to keep his problems in perspective to her own, it was impossible not to look upon the man with pity.

“That … that is terrible. I am truly sorry to learn the source of your worries, Major Hewlett. I wish I could offer more than my mere support and condolence.”

“I am thankful to have them. Ah, Mrs. Woodhull, no one else knows of this aside from Ensign Davis who served as my currier. The rumor is that I’ve purchased a new commission or some such rubbish. You’ll… you’ll be so good as to keep my secret, won’t you?”

_Unless it suits me otherwise._

“Yes, yes, of course, there is no question, but I must ask - what will _you_ do?”

“Major John Andre has recently returned to York City. We’re not friends per se, but we are on good enough terms that I think I can buy myself some sympathy. He requested, ah, that is, Command requested, that I travel in your husband’s company, which is, _of course_ , out of the question.”

_Simply out of the question!_

“John Andre wants Abe to return to York City.” Mary repeated for clarification.

“I won’t let that happen.”

_You have a kind heart. But I know my husband too well to entertain the idea that you will be able to keep him from wanting to meet with the head of the other intelligence effort._

“Have you brought this up with father?”

“No, and I ask that you not either. I won’t put your family through any more needless hardship.”

 _We do that enough to ourselves._ Mary felt powerless, but Hewlett shouldn’t. For Abe to stand a chance against Andre, Mary needed for the Major to provide adequate cover.

 _Maybe he plans to sell Anna out to save himself… Maybe_ that _is why he is so bent up over her._

_Is it so wrong for me to hope?_

“Is that how you are choosing to explain your refusal to speak with Anna? She _is_ your dearest friend.”

“Mrs. Woodhull, I mean no disrespect, but I feel you should leave.”

_Not until I have my answers._

“You are hurting her, Major Hewlett.” Mary swallowed and averted her eyes upward, as to appear on the verge of tears when she spoke of the woman she hoped would continue to prove Abe innocent. “My lips are sealed, but when Anna is released, she surely will hear of your planned departure if rumors are already circulating. You stand up to Anna’s would-be tormenters, and so I fear must I. Even if that means standing up to _you_ on her behalf.”

“I can’t be friends with Anna Strong.” he stated as if he could cite a scientific resource to verify his assertion.

_Good. Can you perhaps then sacrifice her to Major Andre?_

“That seems to contradict the conversation I witnessed earlier.”

“That is to say, I can’t keep her company.”

“Pity. I like the man she brings out in you.”

“Believe me, Mrs. Woodhull, I want nothing more than to indulge myself in the pleasures of her companionship. Were my situation different, if I were even half the man I wish to be, if I felt that the reputation I seem to have unwittingly acquired wouldn’t prove detrimental to her future should our friendship continue...” he trailed off.

Mary wasn’t equipped to convince the major that martyrdom didn’t suit him. She needed to negotiate with the Hewlett who could be base and desperate and cruel. She needed the man who had saved her town from the Continentals to save her husband from sharing in his hell.

 _I need Anna to convince Hewlett that his freedom is worth more than hers._ _Which she will, without question, if I can convince her it is ‘for the good of the cause.’_

“I don’t believe you to be a victim of your circumstances, Major Hewlett, and I know that Anna will not sink in hers.” Another lie to add to her collection.

“It is more complicated than you think.”

 _Complicated? Please! You’re in love with a woman who harbors the wrong politics. She betrayed the Crown, and in order to save yourself, and yes,_ my husband _, you need to give her up._

“It is not. I don’t believe whatever differences separate the two of you are so fundamental that they cannot be respected, if not overcome.” Mary rose to meet his eyes, giving him an empathetic look.

_The solution to all of your problems is simple, but it falls not to me to convince you of that._

“You cannot even begin to appreciate just how convoluted our circumstances are.”

“I think it is rather simple. I think you are afraid. And I think your fear is misplaced. Speak with her, Major Hewlett … I, oh, I know it is wrong to want to concern myself in matters which aren’t my own, but, your feeling in regards to Anna, I am certain they are reciprocated.”

“Unfortunately, so am I.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "Brunswick" was a travel dress with a high neckline in colonial times. In the course of this week's research, I actually found a pattern online. Tempted, oh so tempted, to break out my old sewing machine.
> 
> > \- Galatians 6:7, KJV (which I think is the version of the Bible that Hew would be quoting from, please don’t hesitate to inform me if I am mistaken.)
> 
> The whole thing about Mary learning the posh way to eat, I tried this you guys - it is damn near impossible. If you are bored and living in America, try eating one meal as a European (fork in the left hand, knife in the right) and tell me if you have similar feelings.
> 
> Next week I’m bringing Anna back into the narrative. (Is it time? It is time. I’ve missed her too.)
> 
> Till then – thank you also much for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Up Next: Gone Girl


	12. Axial Tilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna upon her release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I got so delayed in posting this, but midterms.  
> (You can all empathize I’d imagine) 
> 
> This chapter has a language warning and it also makes indirect references to sex.

_This isn’t an act of pity_ , Anna thought of her pardon, _this is an act of vengeance_. She had half a mind to march on the garrison and demand the major’s audience. Such an action would, however, require her to look upon the man who had taxed her eyes of more tears in the past two days that she thought herself capable of sheading.

_No._ She told herself bitterly as she folded another underskirt, placing it into the trunk Richard Woodhull had lent her. _Just this once, I will submit to the will of the Crown._

Anna had awoken an hour earlier; cold, delirious, uncomfortable from having slept in full-dress. By the time she had been able to identify her surroundings the judge had entered the small storage room - which Hewlett had designated as a cell – in order to issue her release. The major himself had long since left Whitehall, delegating a task he would prefer to have no part in to the man who was likely the least keen on carrying it out.

It had been another misplaced display of power. If Anna knew anything of Judge Woodhull, it may well prove Hewlett’s last.

Woodhull stood in the doorway for the entire duration of the lecture he’d personally decided to make a contingent of her liberation. The light from the hallway had cast a shadow over his face, making him more threatening, more sinister than he might otherwise appear. Anna had recalled an instance from her childhood in which he father had argued before the judge, who stood with his back to the courtroom window for the length of the proceedings. When Woodhull had approached her afterwards, Anna had burst into tears. _A scare tactic_ her father had explained. _Clearly it has worked on someone, huh Rick?_

He had laughed as he hugged his daughter tighter. Judge Woodhull had been laughing as well.

But Anna had long forgotten the sound.

She had forgotten what is was to be welcome at Whitehall long before becoming its most unwanted resident. She wondered if she would have been able to recall the close friendship the Smiths and Woodhulls had at one time shared at all if not for the references the judge himself would periodically make. She often wondered if this was done consciously, and if so, to exactly what purpose?

He’d made mention of her father yet again that same morning, failing, for perhaps the first time in her entire adult life, to directly insult his memory.

No.

The judge had found a sharper weapon in the flaws in her relationships with the two men who were living under his roof.

Anna closed her eyes as she remembered their conversation.

* * *

 

_“I spent most of yesterday afternoon looking through some of your father’s old case files.” Richard Woodhull began. His tone suggested hesitance, contradicting the zeal Anna heard in his pace of speech._

_“Why?” she asked, as she knew he meant for her to._

_“Why, at Major Hewlett’s request.” This had sent chills through her. She had expected a lesser insult, a citation of the accusations that had seen her father disbarred shortly before his death._ It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree _– she had told herself in the judge’s voice prior to hearing his response._

_“Hewlett asked you to go through my father’s things?”_

_“Indirectly. He needed information with regards to Negative Misprision. Ironically, your father is the only man I know of to have had any success in defending against that particular charge.”_

_Anna remained quiet as she tried to place the case Woodhull was referencing within the context of her father’s memory. Her effort was unsuccessful._

_“Forgive me, but what do you mean by Negative Misprision? Has it something to do with my wrongful_ im _prisonment?”_

_“No, Mrs. Strong. The major’s inquiry concerned charges connected with concealing an act of treason.” Judge Woodhull was the only person who could sound positively giddy in his disapproval._

_“What exactly are you suggesting, Your Honor?”_

_“I know what is going on between you and Major Hewlett and I ask that henceforth you leave this family out of it.”_

Such has been my endeavor, _Anna felt like snapping back. She had confessed crimes the judge’s son had committed. She had gambled with her life, her freedom, her friendship with Hewlett with the sole intent of keeping the true Mr. Culper free from the Crown’s suspicion._

Hell, my friendship with Hewlett was based on keeping Abe - - -

<< Was. >> Past tense.

_Anna fought on if only as a means to delay the sting of the realization._

_“If you had_ any _idea what was going on you would be thanking me.”_

_“You are not helping my son, Mrs. Strong, by supporting him in acts that have led to imprisonment - By saving him from injuries obtained in an act of treason.”_

_“You would that Abe had been left for dead?”_

_“I would rather a dead son than a traitorous one.” His volume was raised. He was bluffing._

_Anna proceeded with every intent of calling him on it._

_“Would have then preferred the alternative? Had I not acted in the way I did, Your Honor, both your son_ and _Major Hewlett-”_

_“Had you not acted at all_ neither _would have fallen under your influence, Mrs. Strong.”_

_“Do_ not _presume to hold me responsible for your failed relationship with Abe. That has been of your making.”_

_“Do not presume to speak of my relationship with my son.”_

There. You would have gone to the same lengths to defend him if the need had presented itself, _Anna thought._

_The judge swallowed, perhaps realizing that he had unintentionally offered Anna a glimpse of his motives._

_“Mrs. Strong, you are doing no one any favors by lying during an investigation. I am speaking from personal experience. Mark me, now if for only once in your godforsaken life. You can’t win.”_

_“You’ve never lost.” Anna stated bluntly, unable to fathom what Richard Woodhull might have meant by << personal experience>>. _

_“I’ve lost nearly everything, Anna. Don’t take from me what is left.”_

 

* * *

 

_Anna. He hasn’t called me that since I was fifteen._ She held up a bonnet, debating whether to wear it or pack it with the others.

“What are you doing?” a voice came from the doorway. Anna turned to meet her inquisitor. Mary Woodhull stood there with crossed arms and a twisted scowl, speaking in a tone that may have been better suited to scolding a naughty toddler.

“What do you think?”

“Anna, listen to me, you can’t leave.” It was more of an order than a plea.

“I know where I am not wanted.”

“Honestly, has that ever stopped you before?”

_Said the pot to the kettle._

“What is your point, Mary?”

“If you don’t stay people will start asking questions. You are meant to be sick. More importantly _Abe_ is meant to be suffering from the same affliction. Stop for a moment and think of the problems you will create if you waltz into town and _my husband_ doesn’t reemerge for weeks. It could-”

_What exactly?_ Anna thought, through in truth she didn’t much care to hear Mary’s explanation. The most infuriating thing about that woman, to Anna’s mind, was that for Mary Woodhull there was little difference between looking out for her husband’s well-being and protecting her own reputation. She may have owed Mary a token of thanks, assuming that had the other woman been unsuccessful in her mission she might have started the conversation differently – but to remain at Whitehall _where Major Hewlett resided_? That was simply too much to ask, whatever Mary’s reasoning might be.

“We will tell them I got better.” she answered with a forced air of nonchalance.

“The secret to a good lie is follow through.”

“But this _isn’t_ a good lie. It is a passive attack. Hewlett just wants to keep me out of commission whilst he works to destroy everything the Ring has worked so hard to achieve.”

“Which is _exactly_ why you are needed here. Think about it, Anna, if you stay, Hewlett is bound to focus all of his attention on you. If you leave that man to his own devices, I fear that-” she swallowed. “Please reconsider. It will only be for a few weeks.” There was a sadness to her voice that Anna assumed was genuine.

“Weeks? Is Abe truly in such a grave state?” she asked as she approached. Mary followed her cue and took a few steps towards her. When they met in the middle of the room, Mary took the bonnet from Anna’s hand and continued in a whisper.

“No. Major Hewlett is leaving Setauket, _you need to do is to stay at Whitehall until he does_. Convince him to leave sooner if you are at all able.”

Anna repeated the five words of significance in her head a dozen times before saying them allowed.

“Major Hewlett is leaving Setauket?” her voice sounded as hallow as she suddenly felt.

Mary gripped her wrist tightly and led her to the edge of the bed. Anna sat. Mary took the clothes from the chest Anna has packed them in for transport and proceeded to replace them in her armoire.

“Ay.” Mary studied Anna for a moment, observing her face as she tried to catch her breath.

“When he tells you himself, do that. Try to force a few tears if you can. Men in general and our major in particular cannot seem to resist comforting a woman in destress.”

“Major Hewlett is _leaving_ Setauket?” Anna asked again, hoping that the added empathies would compel Mary to offer an explanation.

“In a fortnight I suspect. I spoke with him last night after supper.” Mary sat down beside her. “The messenger he sent to John Andre days ago finally returned yesterday afternoon. Evidently whatever Abe told the major raised quite a few questions which Hewlett will need to answer in person. It seems as if he overstepped his rank in sending a personal spy into another county. He didn’t say court martial, not directly, but with what he let on about his supposed breach and his failure to investigate reports of treasonous activity within Setauket, I can only assume that this may be the last we will ever see or hear of him.”

_Only he didn’t fail to conduct an investigation. He just … let me go._ Anna imagined Hewlett in the context of which he spoke two nights prior, starving and being shot at under the Caribbean sun.

“No.”

_No! No! No! NO!_

“We won, Anna.” Mary clutched her hand. “Don’t you hear me, we won. Hewlett won’t _die_ , he seems to think Andre’s sympathies can be purchased.”

_He wouldn’t. He can’t._

Anna’s mind went immediately to the numeric code in the major’s diary she had attempted to crack during her time in lock up.

_Fuck, Hewlett, what are you planning?_

Mary gave her a strange look, Anna gazed up to stop the tears forming in her eyes from falling. “We can’t let this happen, Mary we can’t. If Hewlett goes to York City – trust me – I believe him to be guilty of so much more than just blind ambition. We have to find a way to stop him. He _will_ hang. And … and he doesn’t deserve to.”

Mary was quite for a moment.

_Please tell me you have a plan._

“Anna, we have a bigger problem that I’ve yet to mention. Major Andre has requested that Abe accompany Hewlett on his trip to York City. I _won’t_ lose my husband to that wicked place again. I am worried that if Abe finds out about this, I won’t be able to stop him from going. After speaking with Hewlett last night, I am convinced that my husband has only been able to avoid his suspicions because of the major’s obsession with you. Abe won’t be so lucky faced with the British Spy Master.”

_She is probably correct in all counts. But Abe has successfully fooled Andre before._ Anna decided it was better not to mention this.

“Now, you need to distract Hewlett,” Mary continued, “He has already told me that he has no intention of bringing Abe, but-”

Anna had stopped listening.

_Something isn’t right. Hewlett received word from Andre, felt his life and career at risk and decided to free his chance of redemption – after telling me in no uncertain terms that our friendship no longer held_ any _meaning for him. He then made veiled threats against Abe to the person he must know to be the most susceptible to them, before turning around and promising to protect the man?_

_No._

_Something defiantly isn’t right._

_This feels like a trap._

“You do realize he could be lying about all of this.”

“I don’t think so. No, he was too shaken.” Mary sounded quite certain in her assessment.

_What was it that you said before, Mary dearest? - The secret to a good lie is follow through._

“That could be a result of everything that happened on Tuesday night.” Anna cautioned.

Mary responded without taking the time to entertain Anna’s suggestion.

“Again, no. Hewlett knew that you were a spy for quite some time before he confronted you on it, if I understand correctly from the conversation you and I had yesterday. I think he is disappointed that you confessed, but not surprised. He had received a ransom letter from Rogers so he must have known that Abe wouldn’t be the picture of health before the two of you found him, and I think he had prepared himself for that as well. Unlike our unfortunate Ensign Anderson, but that is neither here nor there. I was in Hewlett’s office when his currier returned. While I admit he seemed tired and heart-sick beforehand, it was only after reading Andre’s brief that he seemed to have really been affected.”

The idea of Hewlett as an enemy was something Anna felt that she could accept. But reducing him to memory? No, that was simply too much. Of course she was grateful that Mary was giving her this information – whatever the other woman’s designs might be. But the crushing callousness with which Mrs. Woodhull could speak of such matters cut Anna like a knife. As she listened to Mary rattle off her reasons why she was certain that the major was being honest about his orders, Anna asked herself _is this how I once sounded?_

_Before I knew Major Hewlett?_

_If I ever knew him at all!_

Anna rose from the side of the bed and placed the last of her belongings back into her wardrobe. She hadn’t decided to stay, but she felt that she might again weep and didn’t want to do so in view of Mary.

The other woman however refused to let her be.

“You should know, he is still in love with you.”

Anna didn’t know if it was wise to respond. She wanted to let the words linger in her ears. As she repeated them to herself she found the fighting ease of which she might lose herself in yet another lie.

“He told you that?”

“I told him and he didn’t deny it. I admit through, I find myself rather disappointed in Hewlett that he didn’t go any speak with you immediately after our little talk as I’d urged him to do.”

Anna’s heart sank as she told herself not to be surprised.

_Why, when the only thing left to say is apparently goodbye?_ She bit her lip.

“Please don’t mention this. I promised him that I wouldn’t repeat anything.”

“How did you even get him to open up to you? I feel as if we, I-” Anna found herself at a loss for words.

_Major Hewlett … Edmond, or Richard, or both._ Before glimpsing his diary she had assumed him to be the man he was with her in private. Now she tried to see him once more only for his public face. His rank serving the function of a given name. _What else had been a lie?_

Anna found herself resenting Mary even more for her apparent insight.

Mary quickly picked up on this shift.

“As much as, I must confess, I’m enjoying this, you needn’t worry. Hewlett was under mild shock and desperately needed a friend. He is trying to convince himself that he can’t be friends with you for your mutual good, which in and of itself shows how much he cares for you.”

_How do you figure that?_

“And the fact that this seems to be rattling you so might cause one to think that you ache for him as well.”

“Presumptuous are we?” Anna scoffed. Mary didn’t seem to take note.

“Before receiving word form Andre, Hewlett had written to you - sad, sentimental prose. I found the letter in his fire place and I wanted to deliver it to your hand so that you might know what he doesn’t trust himself to say but feels all the same. Unfortunately I was forced to give the letter over to Caleb.”

Anna felt her resentment shatter at the mention of her formerly-bearded friend.

“ _You met Caleb_?” Her eyes grew wider as she tried to fathom how Mary failed to mention this immediately.

Mary pulled at the high collar of her rather ugly dress to reveal a small contusion. Smiling a bit wickedly, she confirmed “I met Caleb.”

_Did he bruise her with a particularly aggressive kiss? Did she enjoy it?_ Anna smiled and fought back a laugh she knew to be wholly inappropriate even without the hard glare Mary was now giving. _Perhaps Brewster wasn’t lying when he said his whiskers had been getting in the way of his romantic liaisons._

“Is that a…? Are you sure?” Anna finally chocked out.

“When I went to put the letter you had written into the drop box as _you_ requested, Caleb grabbed me from behind so that Rogers wouldn’t. Evidently the former Ranger had been waiting for your side to make the next move which he’d been able to predict. We – Caleb and I - made it look as if I was being attacked as he pulled me into a secure alcove where I explained who I was, what had happened to you and Abe, and what I knew of Hewlett’s situation at the time we met. I gave him the letter Hewlett wrote and the confession you wrote - which I also found torn in Hewlett’s trash - for him to pass along to his superior officer. Charming fellow, really, once you get past the lack of refinement.”

She took Mary at her word though she could not help but to suspect that Abe’s porcelain doll of a wife had enjoyed the whaler’s company more that she would ever admit. Apologizing for the trouble Mary had endured on the Culper Ring’s behalf, Anna moved closer and tried to examine the bruise.

Mary brushed her away. “Not you, too. I truly am fine. The injury itself wasn’t half as bad as what I went through last night explaining it to Father and Hewlett. Oh!”

“What?”

“Father called you a whore.”

_Do you imagine this offends me, Mary? Or are you simply trying to present yourself as my moral superior? You truly must have enjoyed getting to know our currier…_ She suddenly found herself wishing she was friends with the perfect woman whose presence so often seemed a chore.

“And…?”Anna inquired in a long breath.

“Hewlett did not take kindly to it _at all_. I never thought that man could inspire fear but I was left trembling and I wasn’t even in the line of fire.”

Anna blinked. _Why does the defense sting me more than the insult?_

“I suppose that explains why Judge Woodhull was so kind to me this morning.”

“Kind?” Mary gasped.

“For him.”

“That is its own sort of terrifying.”

They laughed. They laughed until they started crying, they cried until they started weeping. They hugged until their tears had dried.

Lying on the bed afterward, Anna’s mind was screaming though the room had grown silent. Mary was looking up at the canopy with a blank expression.

“I don’t understand anything anymore.” Anna confessed, unprompted. Mary looked over at her, nodding her agreeance. “You, Judge Woodhull, Abe, Caleb, Rogers, Hewlett. _Hewlett!_ How did we find ourselves here?”

“He somehow still considers you the brightest, strongest, bravest, most beautiful women he has ever met.” Mary stated in a manner that suggested she was quoting the major. “He _thinks_ he can’t chose between you and his politics, but from what I have seen, you win out every time. He loves you, Anna.” She lowered her voice into a soft hiss. “ _And God help me, no matter what emotions are raging within you, you are going to find a way to use that to the good of the cause_.”

Anna was taken aback. Seeing this, Mary added, “Caleb is in concurrence. Sort of.”

“Concurrence?”

“There was a heavy repetition of _Aw, shit Annie! Aw shit!_ But I think he is onboard.” Mary mimicked with a grin.

Anna smiled picturing it. It was the same reaction he’d had when they were all children and he had found her kissing Abe beneath one of the apple trees on his family’s orchard.

“You know your impressions are far better than those of your husband, right?”

“I do.” Mary laughed.

“I need to see him. Now.” She rose.

Mary remained on the bed but sat up to respond.

“Abe? You can, I believe, but not without military supervision and _Reed_ is on duty at the moment. Love my husband though I do, I wouldn’t suffer the ensign’s company if-”

“Hewlett.”

“You can’t leave. You have dysentery.”

“Dysentery?”

“Hewlett’s explanation. If it makes you feel any better half the town is joking that in truth it is Scarlet Fever.”

Anna sat back down and laughed again.

“Right. I because I am full of shit and I fuck Redcoats.”

“You know what I find ironic?”

“What?”

“If either of those statements were true we won’t be in this situation at all. I will talk to Hewlett. Let me call on dear Eliza first, and I will visit the garrison when I am through.”

“Eliza Greene or Eliza Brewster?”

“Don’t be daft, Anna.”

“Can’t your social life wait?”

“My social life may be our only way of visiting with my husband unsupervised, and we’ve so much to discuss. Hewlett may have lifted his ban on visitation, but even I am unable to sit with him without having a guard present in the room. Tomorrow morning Anderson has duty and the lovely Miss Greene will provide the necessary distraction.”

_Would Mary sell out one of her friends with such flippant disregard?_

“No, that is too risky.”

“Would you rather take the risk of allowing the two fools to go to York City and dance with John Andre?”

_There’s that tone again, as if mother is yelling at me to finish my peas._

Anna shook her head. She didn’t know how she could still be surprised in how quickly Mary could create and employ a plan of action.

“I thought not. Trust me on this. Tomorrow, morning, you, me, and Father.”

“Your father-in-law won’t willing take any part in this.” Anna snorted.

“Honestly, how did you get this far in life knowing so little about how to control men?”

Mary rose, brushing out the wrinkles and creases in her Brunswick. “What do you want me to say to Hewlett?”

Anna thought for a moment. If Hewlett was determined not to speak to her, she would need to be strategic.

“Tell him that I have a question about Earth’s obliquity which I don’t believe he can answer.”

“Is that code?”

“It is code for you told me some really weird lies and I want clarification.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Not bad. Enticing.”

“Besides, I have never known him to be able to resist the urge to talk about astronomy.”

“Better you than me. I will see what I can do. What was that word again?

“Obliquity, referring in that sense to axial tilt. It also means dishonest. He will get my hidden meaning.”

 

* * *

 

After Mary had gone, Anna found herself at the mercy of her thoughts. By her own estimate, she had spent an hour staring at Richard Woodhull’s trunk, wondering if she should in fact pack her belongings for departure. Perhaps the judge had been correct in his outside assessment – she would be doing no one any favors by perpetrating a lie. Mary’s plan could backfire. Hewlett could have spoken in earnest before kissing her hand, promising that her idea of their friendship had been erroneous.

_But he failed to charge me with so much as a misdemeanor,_ Anna reminded herself.

_And he had managed to convince Mary Woodhull at least that he has romantic feelings for me._

Anna herself had believed for quite a while that his advances towards her had been genuine. Part of her still clung to that particular fantasy, part of her loved him despite the torments of the reality he had created for them. She wondered what he stood to gain by pretending to the lady of the house that he had any interest in his little charity project. She wondered why he suddenly _didn’t_ , given the fact that if any part of what Mary had told her about Andre’s orders were true, Hewlett stood only to gain by turning her over to his superiors.

_Maybe, like the Christian name he gave me, this too is a lie which I simply can’t understand one would think of telling._

Anna wondered if the truth had ever spoken within the walls of Whitehall. Or if it even could exist there.

The trunk had seemingly begun to stare back at her. Challenging her to make a move. Anna imagined Abe in his room _sick with dysentery_ and plotting his vengeance; Mary, laughing with doltish women whose company she pretended to enjoy for the sake of appearance; Judge Woodhull, fuming in his study about his latest human interaction; and Hewlett. _Edmond … or Richard, or both._

In the end it wasn’t the needs of desires of any of Whitehall’s other occupants that forced her to close the empty chest. Anna realized that she had an obligation to herself to find the truth in the endless web of lies that trapped her.

_Lest I spend my lifetime wondering._

She took a deep breath, redid her the bun she wore her hair in, and walked out into hall.

 

* * *

 

It felt good to stretch her legs. She hadn’t been still the day before. But this was different. She was now free to move around the great house, if not to exit, and her body felt lighter for it.

Anna had spent half the day prior pacing the length of her cell as she tried to come to terms with Major Hewlett’s _notes-to-self_. Notes she still found herself contemplating. She had found that Edmond was among several aliases he used in varied correspondence she didn’t understand. She had found that he misappropriated the garrison’s limited funds to take care of the town’s needs that taxation was no longer providing for. She had seen what she might have taken as evidence that he had never gazed upon a naked woman had his attempts at horses and landscapes not been equally as wanting. She had seen drafts of letters he would never write home – confessions of how little he was sleeping, his lack of appetite, and his sudden lust to stay in the desolate Long Island town that had begun to feel more like home than the great cities of London or Edinburgh.

Apologies to people she would never meet, to his subordinates, to his superiors, to himself.

_But not to me._

_Not yet._

Anna considered sitting with Abe while she waited for Hewlett to return, even if it meant listening to Ensign Reed speak incessantly in his horrid Brummie accent. Abe certainly hadn’t done anything recently to warrant the resentment she felt towards him – but perhaps it had long been dormant. She found herself pacing in the foyer as she contemplated ascending the stairwell. Her thoughts of the first man in the series of crushing betrayals she’d been made to suffer were interrupted by the sound of Judge Woodhull clearing his throat.

Anna hadn’t realized she’d had an audience.

The judge beckoned for her to follow him into his study. Anna complied with hesitation.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sit” he instructed her, indicating to the chess board on the table. Anna didn’t take her eyes off of him as she lowered herself into the chair he’d indicated to – _Major Hewlett’s_ \- and made the first move on the board – _pawn to e4_.

“I’ve been thinking about your case, Mrs. Strong.” Woodhull stated, moving a pawn to c5.

“My… my case?”

“Hewlett’s rather. How impossible do you think it would be for the major to prove himself innocent of charges in connection with the concealment of treason in a fair trial?”

“I really don’t know sir.”

“I am concerned about what may come out if we don’t work to control the situation. Abraham won’t listen to me. Hewlett won’t listen to me, but for whatever reason they both seem willing to take you at your word.”

“I don’t think -”

“No, you really don’t, do you Mrs. Strong” he said taking the pawn she had opened with. “This is what I propose: Hewlett wanted to have you tried on another charge while in Setauket-”

“So you know about Hewlett leaving?”

“I have heard certain rumors that he has purchased a new commission.” He paused, adding with a scoff, “You really do a number on them, don’t you?”

Anna wondered if Judge Woodhull had any objectives in life that didn’t involve chastising her in some manner.

“What is it that you are trying to ask of me?”

“Get my son to confess to his crimes. Confess as well if you are smart. We will force an acquittal when the matter goes to trial.”

Anna stared at the magistrate in shock.

_Has this been your plan all along?_

She was loath to admit it, but in face of current circumstance, there was some promise to this proposal.

“And if either of us is ever charged on the same offence we can claim _autrefois acquit_.” Anna continued where Woodhull had left off. “Even if the second offence is aggravated.”

Woodhull nodded whilst scowling in disapproval.

The two of them played for serval minutes in silence. When the judge correctly took her pause on the board to be a manifestation of her greater hesitation, he continued by restating what he had told her that morning, “Your father was the only man I’ve ever known to successfully defend a negative misprision case.”

“You don’t think that you would be up to it should the Crown bring the same charge against Hewlett?”

“I don’t trust Hewlett to plead innocence.”

_But by your logic Abe and I ought to plead guilt?_

“Mmhm.” Anna replied as she found her eyes again locked with Richard Woodhull’s.

“This is exactly why I cannot allow such charges to be brought against him. Were Hewlett to confess I can only imagine that an investigation would follow, spelling damnation for my son and our good name. I don’t know the facts of the case we could present as an alternative, but a show trial would acquit Hewlett on merit.”

Anna nodded to indicate that she was still following.

“In order to bring the matter to trial we need evidence or a confession. Under Common Law in order to convict a man of treason two witnesses must give testimony against him, if their testimony is proven wanting and prosecution is unable to convict-”

“Would it not be declared a mistrial?” she interpreted.

“No. This is why I am suggesting that we try the matter here, and do so quickly. Mary and I could stand as witnesses. I have my doubts concerning my daughter-in-law’s commitment to the written law, and my testimony is purely speculative, which could be easily proven. If Hewlett presides over the matter, I have reason to think that he would be quite keen on doing so.”

_Do I detect resentment? What is this really about?_

“I don’t believe he will agree to it.”

“It could save his career. If he truly fears standing trial, an attempt to convict two spies could preclude him from court martial.”

“There would be a conflict of interest.” Anna countered.

“How so?”

“Where you may be forced to give evidence against your son, Mary would be precluded from doing so under spousal privilege.”

“She wouldn’t be prevented from testifying, but she couldn’t be made to.” The judge corrected.

“I don’t trust you, sir.”

“You needn’t trust me. You need only trust that I’ve always had a plan to protect my only living son from himself. I have not been able to make him see the rationality of this course of action in this in the past, and I think you might have more success. For the record, I don’t trust you either, Mrs. Strong, but I believe we have a common goal.”

“Would Hewlett then serve as prosecution?”

“Yes.”

“How would you propose to ensure that he would be able to ignore the evidence our testimonies might present?”

“Hewlett isn’t very skilled in the art of interrogation, and I would coach _all of you_ to only answer the question that he phrased.”

_< < Isn’t very skilled in the art of interrogation. >> Oh, I beg to differ._

“What evidence do you have to support that claim?”

Woodhull smiled and leaned back into his chair. Anna leaned forward.

“Hm. A few months ago the major came to me to inquire about divorce, I believe I am safe in assuming, about your unsuccessful proceedings. He asked, in as many words as he possibly could, if it were possible to get the state to overturn a death certificate without the presence of the party in question, in order that a divorce might take place. I told him no. Even with the presence of the individual for whom the certificate was issued the process of retracting the document is nearly impossible in peacetime and during a war-”

“What are you getting at?”

“What Major Hewlett _should have asked_ was ‘Is it possible for me to marry Anna Strong?’ That was his real question.”

Anna’s heart stopped.

“When was this?”

“Shortly after he moved you into Whitehall.”

_After…_

He had _known_. By his own account he had known of her political leanings to that time and he had still sought her hand! Anna wanted to scream.

“And you didn’t-” she started.

“He didn’t _ask_ , and truth be told, Mrs. Strong, I do not like having you in my household and I had not the intention of allowing the major to think that our arrangement could be made permanent. But to get back to my point, given that Hewlett is incapable of poignancy, I find it highly unlikely that he will be able to phrase a question which either you or my son couldn’t parry with ease.”

“Can you truly believe that I would ally myself with you after what you just confessed?”

“I will tell you what I don’t believe, Mrs. Strong – I don’t believe that you are ignorant, blind or naïve enough for either Major Hewlett’s misplaced intentions or my response to them to truly come as a surprise. I don’t believe that you are, or have ever been, in love with Richard Hewlett.”

Anna was about to use the pause to refute every accusation, when Woodhull continued in a softer tone “Speak of the devil.”

They both rose as Major Hewlett entered the room.

“Mrs. Strong?” He greeted her with the most confused expression.

“Major Hewlett, I take it you got my message then?”

“What? What are you doing here?” he asked shaking his head.

“As we discussed last night, Major, without a signed charge I couldn’t hold her in custody.”

“Yes, yes, quite right but-”

“We were playing chess, Major Hewlett. That is rather to say, the judge was playing, I was struggling.” Both she and her opponent forced smiles.

Hewlett came to inspect the board and nodded.

“Forgive my surprise, Mrs. Strong. I had assumed that given my recent behavior towards you, you would-”

Anna heard the judge cough something about exhibiting some degree of common sense. She turned to give him a hardened look and assumed that Hewlett had done the same when Woodhull tried to excuse himself.

“No, no, do carry on. I just met with the good doctor and had wanted to check up on young Abraham. I’ve no intent on staying.”

Anna exchanged a worried look with Woodhull before following Hewlett out of the room.

 

* * *

 

“I had rather hoped to speak with you, Major Hewlett.” she said as she caught up to him at the base of the stairwell.

“As I have repeatedly stated Mrs. Strong, we have nothing more to discuss.”

“Am I to take it that you are in fact unable to explain _obliquity_?”

“I take it you spent your morning much in the same way I spent mine then, Mrs. Strong.” He took a step towards her. Anna took this as a good sign.

“Well?”

“Though I do applaud your bit of word play and would _love_ to explain how seasons are caused by the angle between our rotational and orbital axes, my time is increasingly limited and I have my own inquires with references to a stolen diary. I should like to have mine returned, mind.”

“I can help you.” Anna insisted.

_I want to help you._

“All the evidence I have seen points to the contrary.”

_Have I not done so before?_

“Do elaborate.”

“Perhaps I should give you that honor. Having read your code book, I have a rather difficult time believing that an hotelier from York City had designs on killing me specifically. Do you have something you might like to add before I question Abe directly?” He laughed ironically as he shook his head. “No, no, wait - as long as we are speaking of obliquity, Mrs. Strong, why don’t we address the fact that you are not Mr. Culper at all, are you?”

_Please no._

“What are you talking about?”

“If I piece your testimony together with the evidence, it certainly seems as though you merely acted as a signal. So I have to ask myself, who would you lie to protect?”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...DUN DUN DUUUUN!
> 
> There are quite a few notes for this chapter, so let’s get right to it then: 
> 
> (Legal; not directly defined in the text)
> 
> autrefois acquit - crim. law, pleading. A plea made by a defendant, indicted for a crime or misdemeanor, that he has formerly been tried and acquitted of the same offence.
> 
> “Under Common Law in order to convict a man of treason two witnesses must give testimony against him.” English; dates back to the reign of Henry VIII.
> 
> “Even with the presence of the individual for whom the certificate was issued the process of retracting the document is nearly impossible -” This is so common in modern Europe you guys, I think that I am relatively safe in assuming that this isn’t a problem that started after WWII.
> 
> (Other)
> 
> “horrid Brummie accent” – apologies to the people of England’s second-largest metropolis for perpetrating stereotypes. I rather like your accents. 
> 
> 1\. e4 c5 – The Sicilian Defense, a chess move invented sometime in the early 1500s.
> 
> Earth’s obliquity / Axial tilt – it is the reason for the season! And yes, Hewlett would have known that in 1778.
> 
> ***
> 
> Sorry again that it took (I don’t even know how long) to get this update out. I hate doing this, but I am going to have to ask your patience next week too. I will be out of the country for a few days and I don’t know how realistic my plan of updating beforehand truly is. 
> 
> (And you will just have to trust me on this one, crafting Chapter 13 will really require a lot of love and attention on my part.)
> 
> Thanks as always for your continued readership. I hope this week’s update wasn’t too fractured – I did my best to respond to your comments wishing that I would move the plot along quicker and I have to confess that I am not 100% satisfied with the way it turned out. But then that could just be me. Let me know what you think? I loooooove comments and kudos (and you, my imagined reader. You kick just so much ass. <3 ) Thanks for the 400 hits. Hopefully I will get to post again before Easter, but if not, enjoy your holiday and be safe.
> 
> Up Next: Can we get back to politics? – Please? – Yo.


	13. Mutual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Hewlett try to sort the truth from their lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini-chapter this week! (Or so I say un-ironically, fully recognizing that some epics are shorter than these 3,200 words.)  
> I was a bit lapsed for time but I really wanted to get something out before leaving for Denmark and ended up surprising myself with something tender and upbeat.  
> Ha, just kidding, this is still Medusa. Have fun.

“It would appear as if the rebels exploited young Abraham’s prior sympathies to their cause. Turned him – whilst I covered their costs from my personal account. How could I have been so blind?” Hewlett spoke in little more than a whisper, but to Anna, it felt like he was screaming. “I ought to have seen it, I ought to have abandoned my designs after the first of multiple empty reports. After all,” he paused, staring at Anna, his sharp features briefly softening, “I have given so many of my own, one would think I would be able to recognize my own tricks when they are being used against me. Fool that I am.”

“Abe.” Anna tried to keep her voice level and her eyes dry. “Abe … a spy?” Hewlett responding with an expression that suggested his own confusion. Anna was quick to jump at his uncertainty. “You think that Abe, the loyal son of a Tory magistrate who risked his life for _you_ in York City-”

“I don’t know what I think, Mrs. Strong. But I do know how this looks to Major John Andre and I’ve not been able to find any evidence to contradict his assumptions. I need answers.”

Anna reached for his hand as he turned to ascend the stairwell. “Major Andre?” she repeated, raising her voice at the last syllable as she remembered Mary’s caution to feign surprise.

Hewlett let his fingers linger in hers as he thought, brushing the back of her hand ever so gently as he pulled them away. “It seems to be healing quite nicely.” he remarked, forcing Anna to remember that the man who had imprisoned her was the same who had stopped everything to treat a minor wound. She tried to shake of the sting of his pretentious rejections.

_You may not wish to hold my hand, but I’ve still got you wrapped around my little finger._

Hewlett seemed to recognize her thoughts without Anna speaking them. “I place too much faith in people,” he continued softly, “something I should have learned from my interactions with Simcoe or any of the other hideous characters I have been made to suffer as a result of this war.”

_Do you truly count me among them?_

“Maybe the soldiers who arrested Abe were right to do so. Maybe an extended sentence is what he deserved.” Hewlett continued speaking more to himself than he was to Anna. She didn’t know whether to take this to be a confession of self-doubt or of a slow, unwilling realization. His eyes seemed to dance around the parlor without focus. When they settled on her they appeared to seek correction, comfort. Anna could provide but one. She stepped up onto the stairwell, placing herself on even ground before she opened fire.

“You are speaking madness, sir! Don’t allow yourself for a moment the luxury of assuming that I cannot see the effects of your capture. I know-”

“You know nothing.” Hewlett hissed back between cleansed teeth before she could finish.

“You are seeing enemies everywhere.”

“I _have_ enemies everywhere.”

“But Abe is not among them. And for that matter, nor am I.” she lied.

Hewlett looked down. Without meeting her eyes he conceded that Anna was right. “I know, but it is what all of the evidence points to.”

_Evidence you promised to destroy after reading,_ she thought, recognizing that it would do little good to remind him of this. Anna bit her bottom lip until it hurt.

“Why is this suddenly of such concern? What did Major Andre say that has you so desperate for an expedient solution? When last we spoke you made it seem as if you were in control of the information I was forced to give you. You made it seem as if -”

He held his finger up, silencing her whilst reminding her of the arrogance inherent in his station in a single gesture.

“I believe there is a conversation we need to have, Mrs. Strong.”

 

* * *

 

Hewlett was silent as he led Anna into his chamber. He hesitated before closing the door, waiting for an objection that never came. Anna looked around, realizing that she had never been together in the room with him. The day was sunny, everything inside seemed brighter than she recalled. Anna walked slowly to the window, remembering his capture, remembering looking for traces of him among his belongings when the garrison refused to address the matter of his rescue with her. She remembered looking out of the same window, watching the droplets of rain gather and slide down the glass, pooling on the wooden pane, redefining dreary weather. Redefining loneliness.

“Mrs. Strong?”

“Anna is fine” she started on instinct as she turned to face him. Hewlett’s countenance suggested that she had misspoken.

_Or not. What familiarity can exist between us now?_

“Anna” he repeated.

“Might I call you Richard?”

Hewlett pressed his lips together. They widened until the vermillion had all but disappeared. Slowly but with unquestioning certainty he shook his head no. His refusal didn’t hurt half as much as much as it confused her. Anna opened her mouth to ask the simple question that had plagued her for the past day, but before the single syllable could form, the major took initiative.

“John Andre has demanded my presence, and that of the young Mr. Woodhull, in York City.” Hewlett stated quickly in an apparent attempt to control the conversation. He spoke quietly although there was no one who might overhear, as if he had hesitations about telling her. Anna felt sick. She approached. She wished she could tell him that she wasn’t Samuel Culper – not now at least, not with her friends at risk from the rule which they served to inforce and she fought to dismantle. But it was clear that furthering a series of complicated lies would grant Hewlett no comfort, and she would risk him ending the conversation before -

_Before what?_ She asked herself, coming slowly to the horrible realization that she was _always_ in the role of the rebel spy. _As Major Hewlett is always_ Major _Hewlett. Why content myself to pretend otherwise?_

He reached out to her, clenching his eyes as she took his hand.

“I fear what this may look like,” he sighed. “I can only imagine what else Andre might have inferred –what if, what it he knows about Abigail, about _you_? I’ve been trying, searching, Anna! I have read everything I collected in the cellar a dozen times and I can’t come up with a single viable answer or excuse. How am I to protect Abe from the air of suspicion created by his arrest, protect you from the truth of your treason, and defend my apparent role in it? I thought … I thought if I simply allowed things to continue as they were the situation would sort itself out without my superiors growing wise to it. I thought that – ah, Anna, why was I so vain? _Why were you so reckless, so bloody careless?_ ” he asked somewhat rhetorically with a pang of guilt in his voice.

_So Hewlett still believes Abe to be innocent, Andre, however, does not. What was in that report!?_ She hoped that Mary’s plan to distract the duty guard the following morning would work. If the head of British Intelligence was himself suspicious, what chance _did_ Major Hewlett stand of defending himself, much less Abe? _Or me._

“How much time were you given?”

“I am to appear at my earliest convenience.” Hewlett responded with a hint of spite. “I take by that Andre meant that I should have readied a carriage this very morning, as if it is simple for one to leave one’s post during an armed conflict. I might have at the very least sent a messenger to explain that Mr. Woodhull is recovering from injuries,” he thought aloud. “But had I confessed to Andre how I know them to have been obtained I fear that he would have ordered the Rangers back to Setauket. I can’t, I won’t allow Simcoe or the men he leads to make an absolute mockery of the royal forces anywhere near my command so long as I hold it. So long as you …” Instead of finishing her pulled her closer, close enough that their bodies nearly met. It was always that way with the major, gestures when she longed for words, words where action was demanded. Anna feared she would never truly understand him. She feared how much she longed to. They were enemies, Hewlett had made that much clear. Enemies … unless it unanticipatedly suit him to contradict himself. She could hear his heartbeat. She wondered if he in turn was taking her pulse.

_Why allow me to complicate what might have otherwise been straightforward for you? Why allow yourself suffer if only on my behalf?_

_Who am I to allow for this?_

“What about the plan I’d attempted to dissuade you from, pinning the crimes on that innocent?” she suggested.

“No. You were right to dissuade me from that course of action.”

“Not if-”

“Hearing you use my Christian name was enough to remind me that I am still a child of Christ despite my faults.”

_Oh. That is what this is about._

“Is that why you do not wish for me to use it?”

“I suppose in part.”

“In part?”

He took a deep breath. “It isn’t what you imagine, Mrs. Strong. I didn’t lie to deceive you as much as I did to deceive myself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You needn’t.”

“Won’t you explain?”

“Won’t you let it go?” It was almost a plea.

“No. No I won’t. _And I won’t let you go_. Not again.”

“I fear that you have neither choice in the matter nor influence over it.” It was an aloof statement, but Hewlett looked as if he suddenly wished to flee.

“Are we still friends?” Anna demanded.

“Really?” he looked astonished. “Mrs. Strong, in the past two days I have accused you of treason, thrown you in prison, accused your childhood friend of being a rebel spy and told you that my position - the position that has allowed me to provided you protection up until this point is in question. I’ve confessed that don’t have any answers. You have seen me at my absolute worst and seen me deprived of what little I could have hoped to offer -”

“And yet you still offer!” she countered without letting him finish. “You free me when you would do better to see me hung-”

“No! Dare not to speak in such a manner. The world is a better place with you in it. Even if you’ve not quite found your place in the world yet.”

“My place -”

“Is not in open opposition to the crown. I know you. Anna, you are better than you pretend to be.”

_Oh, wonderful. A moral lesson from the Christian without a Christian name. You don’t know me any more than you know yourself, sir._

“What have I done that you would disrespect me so?”

“I do not disrespect you, I disagree with your politics.” Hewlett responded dismissively.

“Do you?” Anna could hear her volume rise with her frustration. “Because from what I saw in that little diary of yours, you _routinely_ commit acts of forgery and misappropriation. _Treason, Major Hewlett._ ” Anna challenged.

He took a step back, horror briefly sweeping his face before leaving it wan.

_Had he imagined that I’d merely poured over his letters and his drawings? You really do underestimate me, don’t you, Richard?_

“How can you of all people fail to understand? Setauket does not need a garrison of its size. We are only here in such force do to reports of rebel activity, which, you and I can both recognize is only bound to increase if Setauket’s residents are denied the basic rights, services and protections which they are entitled to as British subjects. I’ve done nothing illegal or unethical.”

“You lie to your government about the condition of your storerooms.”

“ _Our_ government, Mrs. Strong, and barely! And for that matter, only in order to facilitate -”

“But you lie! On official forms you _lie_.”

_Like you do to me. To yourself._

“You deceive yourself, madam. I send a generic report to Howe on the rare occasion that I am asked to provide one and an actual report quarterly and upon request to the Southern Department. I am generally free to use my own digression within limits which I am mindful of. A freedom which I enjoy as a _subject of the crown_.”

“How are you blind to the reality that it is _you_ providing ‘basic services and protections’ to this town and not King George?”

“I am his representative and as such -”

“You are your own man.” Anna retorted.

Hewlett narrowed his gaze.

“No. I just forget myself when I am with you.” he released Anna’s hand and turn his back to her. Glancing in the mirror he attempted to smooth creases in his uniform that did not, in fact, exist. “I should rather like return to my business, Mrs. Strong. I must speak with young Abraham.”

“And tell him what? That you are going to York City? You can’t do that to him after what he has _just_ been through.”

“I don’t intend to bring him along.”

“You think you could stop him?”

“I need information.”

“No, you need a cover, which I can provide.”

“How? You’re a confessed rebel. Despite my every action to dissuade you from your path, from you admission of guilt. Have you _any_ idea of the situation this puts me in? _Do you care?_ ”

“Patriot though I may be, I am not a fool, Major Hewlett.”

The major looked as if he might contradict her.

“And as to your question of my concern, before you entered the sitting room, I had speaking with Judge Woodhull in regards to your predicament.”

“Ah – were you now? Do tell me, what does Judge Woodhull imagine he knows of my ‘predicament’?”

“He is surprisingly astute. The case work he provided you with, the one in regards to negative misprision. Well, it was a case my father had worked on. Judge Woodhull guessed what you were planning to do before there even seemed to be a need for you to do it.”

“What am I planning to do then, Mrs. Strong?”

“You are planning to take the fall, are you not? For all of us.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And now?”

Hewlett didn’t answer.

“Need I to explain all of the flaws in your plan?”

_Or would it be enough to beg you to reconsider?_

“Anna, I have failed you as a Major, as a friend -”

“Then let me be your enemy, if that is the role you so long to cast me in. Charge me with treason, espionage, whatever your superiors are looking for you to do. Charge Abe as well. We will bring the matter to trail and force an acquittal.”

“Absolutely not! Have you lost your mind?”

“Why not? If nothing else it would buy you _time_.”

“Why not? Need I truly to remind you that if this went to trial I wouldn’t be able to simply ignore or discard the evidence.”

“You are no solicitor, sir. Evidence is quite often ignored or ruled to be circumstantial or irrelevant.”

“I know the law, Mrs. Strong.”

“But not it’s practice. Judge Woodhull happened to have been brilliant in his former role and I have no doubt that he would be able to spin anything you think you found.”

Hewlett shook his head as he placed his hands on her shoulders. In a calm, level tone he challenged her premise, “Why is he eager to help you now? Consider that for a moment.”

Had Abe not been in legitimate danger Anna would have been just as crippled by suspicion. She didn’t believe for a moment that Judge Woodhull would offer her assistance without naming a price. But true to form he had, and she was paying it.

Anna replied with the only version of the truth she could offer. “He loves you as much as he hates me.”

“But, were the matter to go to trial, I would be freed of direct suspicion regardless of the ruling. I fear that at best the magistrate could be acting with the intention of public humiliation, at worst he could be attempting to force my hand towards something which, well, we will say for the sake of argument the last days have proven me incapable of.”

“Which is why you ought to charge Abe as well. The magistrate himself suggested as much. And as you’ve stated John Andre already harbors the ridiculous notion that Abe is a rebel.”

“How would that _look_? To charge a man I stood behind after being given an order to bring him before one of my superiors – it would appear to any onlooker to be an attempt to avoid further prosecution. Not to even mention what a trial might do to further slander your name.”

“I can take it.”

“I can’t. Even if I were to neglect all of the other implications. This, between you and I, it is mutual.”

He released her shoulders, taking a step back.

_You have used that word before._ Anna thought as she stepped forward, not wanting to allow him the comfort of distance.

“Mutual, Major Hewlett?”

“Mutual.”

“Of all of the words I would beg you to define!”

“What is there to say?”

“All of the words that mustn’t be spoken between us already have been and yet here we are.”

“The words that exist between us prevent me from speaking further. We both know that, Anna.”

“You would reduce me to my politics, sir?”

“As much as you would reduce me to mine.”

“You are wrong, Richard.”

“Stop” he warned.

“You are wrong, I have always held you personally accountable for your failings.”

“My failings?”

_Need I to remind you?_

“You are vain and proud and stubborn and secretive. You all but confess yourself to be personally rather than politically responsible for my every misfortune and yet, _Richard_ , the greatest misfortune I have ever been made to endure has been knowing you. Losing you. Letting you lose yourself in my lies. Longing to be a part of your truth.”

Hewlett stroked her cheek with the back of his hand before pulling her into a tight but welcome embrace.

“You are my truth, Anna,” he said as he lightly kissed the top of her forehead, taking her by surprise. She could hear his heart racing. Anna closed her eyes as she listened, knowing hers was keeping time. “I love you far more then you think.”

“It’s mutual.” She smiled as she lifted her face to meet his. But Hewlett didn’t return it. He seemed sad, regretful, as he quietly replied, “If only it were enough.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, I did it.  
>  (Finally! In part in thanks to everyone who messaged me about the vague ‘should I drop an L-Bomb?’ post I left on social media. Hugs and kisses.) 
> 
> There is actually one note for this week: the Southern Department was what the Home Office was called prior to the 1780s. We will get into that … actually.
> 
> But until then, have a fun and safe weekend / spring holiday. Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are beyond appreciated.
> 
> Up Next: Anna und die Liebe   
> (Yeah a pun on a lame German soap. I know what I am about.)


	14. Perseus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of a two-part Hewlett POV. The immediate aftermath of his amorous admission and the circumstances that brought him to Setauket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am sorry that it has taken me so long to update, academic and social obligations have really been weighing me down the past few weeks. Ah, how I’ve missed you, writing this story, and these little notes.
> 
> I do, however, need to warn you about this chapter. If you have been a bit stressed out over the S. 3 previews – you might want to sit this round out. (Is it worse? It is Medusa, I’ll let you be the judge.) Plot wise this update is pretty significant, but you are clever and I am about as repetitive as the chorus of a 19th century Italian opera.

“I still don’t believe that you are quite the right man for the job,” his boss in London had confirmed after calling Richard Hewlett back from an unanticipated meeting with his banker. He had denied the request for transfer which Hewlett had submitted three months prior on the same grounds. _With that exact phrasing._ Hewlett thought. _No further explanation. I ought to have pressed him!_ The then-captain sat in silence as he watched his superior – a slim, rather plain man of unremarkable features save for the summer tan unbefitting of his station and the permanent stains underneath his eyes- as he read on without offering further insight. Throughout their conversation his eyes had not been averted from the report on his desk since they briefly glanced up in greeting as Hewlett re-entered their shared office. Occasionally the captain heard a rather distinct click as the man him before absentmindedly pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. The sound alone would have been unnerving had Hewlett not been serving as the man’s secretary for the half his career. It was the long silences that followed these clicks which he found particularly unsettling.

“Dare I to inquire, your Grace?” he ventured after a few minutes had passed.

The man sighed and rubbed his temples. Straightening his posture, he looked at Hewlett, contemplating him rather skeptically for a moments before he spoke, allowing Hewlett time to wonder if he had pressed his luck with the more familiar address.

“You are of little use to me here at present. You are known in Edinburgh and while I have dallied with the idea of sending you into the Poker Club, I fear the circumstances which ended your apprenticeship would prove of too great a compromise to the operation. I cannot risk sending you back down to Oxfordshire for reasons I think obvious. But,” he paused, clicking his tongue one again, “I do believe your particular talents can indeed be of use to the Empire in our American colonies after all.”

Hewlett wanted to leave the City. He had for years. He had done nothing to make a secret of it. Though his superior was at times rather lenient, he was not a giving man. After multiple denied transfers, Hewlett was beginning to question if the world beyond the office ceased to exist outside of his imagination. He had had his share of short field-assignments but they had never lead him off the island. He wondered if he would ever get see the glories of the empire he’d dedicated his life to upholding. He doubted that he was truly being offered an opportunity to do so.

“As I understand the post in Virginia has been filled.”

“Virginia, no, no, my dear boy. Setauket.”

_Setauket._

Hewlett had heard the name before but couldn’t place it. “It is a port town on Long Island with a small garrison, and, from what reports have told me, a hotbed of rebel sentiment.” He paused, continuing slowly, “Captain, I fear that much of what I have heard has been intentionally misleading.”

“You want to station me at the garrison to determine if the reports are true?”

“Not exactly.” The man responded with a slight change of tone.

 

* * *

 

<< I still do not believe that you are quite the right man for the job. >>

Until the point he had resolved himself to speak with Anna in the tavern after closing, the major had assumed that the offhand comment which had plagued him since his appointment had been in reference to the Oxford incident.

He was no longer certain.

The idea of Samuel Culper did not intimidate Richard Hewlett in the slightest. He had, after all, danced with many an enemy-of-state. The woman who embodied the fabled spy, however, was entirely a separate matter. Watching her face as a mischievous smile transformed into an angry scowl, he felt her grip loosen. It was only then that he realized he was embracing her. That she had in turn been holding him. Hewlett felt his heart stop.

_Dear Christ, what have I done?_

“Tell me, Major,” Anna said bitterly as she pulled herself free from his grasp, “is your love the carrot or the stick?”

He wondered the same. He wondered if things would have been different had he spoken of his admiration in a time when he could have hoped to offer her something worth having.

_Of course not,_ he reasoned. Political differences aside, he was half a generation older, with most of his portfolio tied up in worthless holdings and government bonds. He came off as more arrogant than elegant, was a poor conversationalist, and more often than not stank of the horses he insisted on caring for himself.

_Anna is only here because she feels she has been left with little other choice. She treats my admission as if it were a punishment._

_Perhaps she is, in fact, correct in her assessment._

Hewlett bit the corner of his bottom lip. Major John Andre, the Head of British Intelligence in the Colonies himself, had recently written that he knew the secret behind the funds that had paid for Hewlett’s commission.

That is was high time they addressed the matter of the debt.

Hewlett watched Anna as she took a step back, noting the distance between them. Distance that he ought to have respected. How often had he reached for her hand? At what point had it ceased to have anything to do with keeping taps on her heart rate as she attempted to deceive him?

_Attempted? No. I earnestly believed that this was more than one-sided,_ he consented.

_Anna truly does make for such an excellent advisory. I myself wouldn’t have confessed as she did, but perhaps it was calculated. Forcing me to focus on my – admittedly! - Quixotic task of bring her to redemption whilst she stole and deciphered my diary – in a single day! Why, I’ve worked with men for years who weren’t able –_

Hewlett begin to smile in spite of himself. He glanced down as he became conscious of it. Whatever her strengths, it was unfair that he had involved Anna in this messy business. For that matter, it was unfair that he had allowed Abraham to involve himself.

Furthermore, it was unfair, knowing his fate as he did, to so much as speak of love as if it were obtainable.

“Major?”

 

* * *

“Major?” Hewlett repeated in confusion.

“You have the service record for it.”

“I’ve not the funds to purchase the commission.” he gaped.

“It has been taken care of,” raising his thin eyebrows, the man rhetorically inquired, “why did you think you’d been called to the bank on such short notice?”

He leaned back in his chair. This was not generosity, Hewlett thought to himself. Nor was it a loan. After disclosing that certain individuals stationed in the colonies served to gain considerably should the civil unrest turn to revolt, his boss explained that he was tasking Hewlett with the command of a strategic garrison within a day’s travel of York City. He would be given a rank enabling him to make necessary connections. His service record would be disclosed, allowing Intelligence to otherwise use him as they saw fit. Meanwhile, he was to compile records of private commerce and trade.

_That is it_ the man had said with a twinge of a smile.

But it wasn’t. Hewlett had known that much if nothing else.

_Not quite the right man for the job,_ he thought in the voice of his superior, as he often would upon reflection before time had erased all memory of that sound.

“Your Grace, with respect, though I am honoured by your generosity, I must confess that your original assessment-”

“Have you ever been to America, Hewlett?”

“I cannot say that I have, your grace.”

“You will, through virtue of character if nothing else, fulfil every one of their expectations. An earnest but bewildered garrison commander,” he imagined allowed as he reached for the bottle of Scotch he had hidden beneath his desk. “Likely aristocracy, appointed only out of political ties and family obligations.”

_Aristocracy?_

“I happen to have benefited in my youth from exposure granted to me by Edinburgh’s population density but I hardly feel that qualifies me to portray a true member of society over the course of the lengthy deployment.” Hewlett retorted, speaking as quickly as his tongue would allow.

“Such modesty, my, my. Appearances, Hewlett. You are by nature all they will expect you to be. Prim, proud, foppish, tediously dedicated -”

“I don’t know how to run a garrison, sir.” the captain insisted, “Men’s lives could be put at stake.”

“Not if you are efficient. It is a desk job, Hewlett. I am asking you to sign your name to the documents that cross your desk, report on any discrepancies and carry out the work which you have grown accustom to doing for me.”

After a long pause he asked, “What name would you have me sign?”

The man responded by pouring him a drink prior to filling his own glass. When he smiled Hewlett returned it. The two had long been friends, after all.

 

* * *

 

“Major?” Anna asked again, a bit more forcefully.

“Ah.” he glanced up, unable to fully formulate a response. Once again she had managed to turn him to stone with a stare, robbing him of words. Depriving him of the only weapon he had ever felt comfortable wielding.

Hewlett swallowed, staring at Anna unblinkingly as she turned her back to him.

<< I love you more than you think. >>

It had taken everything for him to say those words.

It had taken everything, he realized, for him to have gone so long leaving them unsaid.

“It is irrelevant.” Anna continued, “You don’t _love_ me, Major. You may think you do, but if you did, it would be enough.” Speaking more to herself than she was to him, she added, “It is for me.”

Hewlett wondered if it would be fair for him to confess that his feelings for her had long been present or if it would just open more wounds. He was leaving, after all.

As Selah had.

_How much has she already suffered on my behalf?_

Even if he survived the inquiry, his positioned was compromised. He would be called back to London, back to his desk, back to his club, back to all of the people who would ask him what went wrong. Even if Anna were in a situation to follow him, even if he were in a situation to ask for her hand, Hewlett simply could not introduce Samuel Culper under and name to the policy makers with whom he had spent so many of his days.

Was it because he knew she could fool them? He asked himself.

Was it wrong to admire her deceit?

Anna’s posture was stiff. Hewlett watched as her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed, never losing their tension. Yet the light from the midday sun –so rare for this time of year- brightened her dark gown, illuminated the red undertones in her chocolate hair, and gave her alabaster skin an ethereal glow. She looked so gentle, so pure, so vulnerable. Things he knew her not to be. Hewlett understood in that moment how one might lose themselves in a mirage. He started to reach out to her but stopped, deciding it better to first collect his words.

_I’ve loved you since watching you flee the rebels after the Battle of Setauket. I’ve loved you since first we spoke, since first you graced me with your company, since you … confessed to your own treason._

_No._

_Yes!_

_Anna – how can it be that so much principle and daring be present within a single individual?_

_Even though you’re wrong._

_Even though_ this _is, this is wrong, I’d still-_

_I can’t._

Anna turned to him, looking at him as if she was anticipating a rebuttal. Hewlett wondered how long he had let her wait in silence as he gathered his thoughts. She seemed to have grown impatient. Her eyes narrowed but then quickly widened. She glanced upwards. Hewlett worried that she was fighting back tears.

Tears which he, once more, had created.

“Anna-”

“Richard. You cherish my friendship, you call me a traitor, you beg for my help and when I give it you have me thrown into a cell. You say it is for my own good, you say that you respect me and then treat me as if I were a child. You say we can’t be friends. You say you love me. You! You don’t mean any of it. You mean only to take what you see in the moment as the path of least resistance to accomplish your immediate objective. And I – I cannot do this. Not this part.”

_What more could I have expected?_

“Perhaps that is for the best.” he consented.

Anna’s jaw clenched, her arms crossed. Hewlett realized again that he had said the wrong thing.

_But why attempt to please her? Come, man! How selfish can you be to hope to part as friends? How foolish? She is a rebel, you are a spy, it is only a matter of time before your cover is blown, your patriotism taken for treason, your name destroyed. You are a risk to her. You’ve twice promised your protection. Leave with your honour if not your dignity!_

Anna shook her head. She began to pace as he stammered his way through an apology. “Anna, ah – forgive me if I spoke out of turn, I had no designs of upsetting you -”

“What did you mean to accomplish then? _I love you, but it is not good enough_ ,” she paraphrased. Hewlett wondered how she could have understood his amorous admission as an attack as she went on to question, “My _love_ isn’t good enough, or _I_ am not good enough?”

“What?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“It is the story of my life isn’t it?”

Hewlett wondered once again if he should respond.

_My love cannot save you anymore._

_Best to get on with it then._

He sighed, “I apologise if I misspoke. It was not my intention to imply that I felt anything about you is lacking. I fear only that I may not be in a position to offer you protection for much longer.”

Once more, his admission seemed only to fuel Anna’s rage.

“And what do you mean to say with that?” she hissed, “That you consider me the sort to abandon someone in a hypothetical? Do you think that anything-”

“I think that you _would_ see that you really ought to had you any sense!”

Anna seemed as surprised at his eruption as Hewlett himself was. Although she could not possibly appreciate the gravity of his situation, it was beneath him as a gentleman to have insulted her, to have offered overtures of love, to agree that this had been a misstep. What he would have traded to spare her the anger, confusion, and sorrow she must have been feeling as well.

“Pardon the outburst, Anna. This is, well it is beneath either of us to conduct ourselves so. I ought not to have been so overt -”

“Overt?”

“From the French _ouvrir_ meaning-”

“You consider yourself _open_ , Major? It was only yesterday that I learned your given name, and not from you.”

_Only yesterday? I expected more from you. You, who manipulated my deficits as man and major to extort state secrets from Andre’s house slave. You who manged to charm multiple heatless men from across the political divide. What I would give to turn you! What I would give to keep you as you are – Anna Strong, the most unlikely and yet most worthy adversary I have ever had the honour of facing. The most beautiful angle any artist could envision in an opium-induced dream._

_Only yesterday … but for a foolish plan._

 

* * *

 

“What name do you want me to sign?” Hewlett asked as he was presented with his commission request. He had always found it easier to work under a pseudonym, feeling robbed of his identity as Richard Hewlett by the life his father’s debts had forced him into.

“Your given one, this needs to appear as inconspicuous as possible.”

Hewlett wonder if his boss realized that was what he had been told at Oxford as well. He wondered if he alone considered that mission a total defeat. The objective had been accomplished, but his cover had been blown with the pull of a trigger. It was the only time in his career that he stared at his target as he took aim, half hoping that he would be blinded by the spark.

He hadn’t.

He’d made captain.

And now he was a major.

Major Richard Hewlett. It sounded like a curse.

“Am I to take from that my work will not go through the normal intelligence networks?” he asked once more, still unhappy with the answer he kept receiving.

“Anything you are tasked with from your superiors within the colonies will. Everything else you will report _directly_ to me.”

_Ah, there yet again._

“Do rebel insurgencies concern you so little, your Highness?”

“Not half as much as the idea that there is a threat from the inside blustering them.”

 

* * *

 

“Alright,” he paused, wondering how much he could reasonably give to Anna before she would inevitably learn his whole story from Abigail when he ceased to be of importance to the Crown. “I’ve used the name Edmond in the past on a completely unrelated assignment.” Her chin lifted slightly as her curiosity perked. “I chose in reference to Edmond Halley, whom” he stopped, seeing her interest wane, “ah -we have discussed. Perhaps it was due to that discussion I gave you that name. At any rate it was not a calculated move. Rather.” Hewlett clenched his teeth.

“What?”

He didn’t want her to call him by a name that echoed of sin and regret. He didn’t want to hear his friends in her voice, friends whose own voices he realized he had forgotten, but whose words he never would. Telling –begging- him to stay at his desk in the capitol. He didn’t want to see his mother’s tears. He didn’t want to admit that a small part of him had set sail for the New World hoping never to reach it. He wanted to be the person he presented. The astronomer he had studied to be. The person he reasoned with bitter irony he would have been today if not for loyalty to king and country.

Was that the heart of it? Did he need the rebel to see him as he saw himself? As he might be if freed from duty. Or did she simply make him so question his ties?

Unable to offer her an explanation, Hewlett settled on an apology.

“I imagine the people whose full name I share. I imagine the people who use it. They would be so disappointed in my behaviour towards you. As I am. I never wanted this, Anna. I never wanted to hurt you or mislead you or involve you in what seems a rather muddled situation. I merely – I wished the pleasure of your company. I hoped that you might be able to enjoy mine as well. Forgive me, I seem to be rambling. Ah – yes. My name, yes well, it is quite awkward isn’t it? I imagine I have given you very little reason to believe me in the past few days but, I truly have been doing everything within my power to provide you with some degree of security without dragging you down with my name. – Ah, my last name” he clarified.

“Richard- may I call you Richard?” she asked slowly, gently yet firm, as she approached with a hesitance they both seemed to recognise.

_No._

“If it pleases you.”

“There is no reason for you to believe that you cannot escape from this with your job and name and reputation intact.” She grabbed his hands, he felt his heart race. “Richard, you are the most cunning, determined, and yet brutally indecisive man I have ever met. I believed every lie you ever told me, you may be lying to me still and yet -”

He opened his mouth to speak but she held her finger to it. Looking to the side she went on.

“I never lied to you. I hid things from you, there is a difference.”

_I tell a married woman that I am in love with her, and she uses my name to take the moral high-ground. What else does she know? Does she know, and if so, has she misinterpreted my reports? _

_It could well be that she mistakes me for a turncoat._

_How to inquire without showing my hand?_

“As long as you insist on discussing this, how long have you known that my given name wasn’t which I offered you?”

“Since reading through your diary.”

_Yesterday? Truly? Perhaps she has no idea._

“Why do you ask?”

“I had been considering the matter since first I heard you use it. I have signed my name to various legal documents pertaining to your person, it strikes me as rather curious -”

“That I wouldn’t be paying attention to you while my life was being upended?”

“I suppose that is fair.”

Anna was paused in thought. Hewlett narrowed his gaze as he tried to read her. Nothing in her expression changed.

“Why is it an issue for you? If I am to believe it was not a calculated move on some part.” When Hewlett failed to answer in what Anna had determined a suitable time span, she carefully resumed, “For that matter, why falsify records here in the colonies and then send an actual report to the Southern Department? You have yet to provide a satisfactory answer. Whatever it is you mean to hide, you needn’t hide it from me.”

_No._

He felt his hope die.

“I forget myself when I am with you.” He murmured in response, though if she had heard him she gave very little indication of it.

“May I venture a suggestion based on what I’ve read?”

Hewlett closed his eyes. If Tallmadge was to be informed before he met with Andre the war would be over. He would be sailing back to England with the rest of the King’s Army.

Unless he silenced her.

He felt his hand instinctively reach for his pistol.

“Could it be that you are spying on your own government?”

She waited. Hewlett opened his eyes and scanned the room for a mirror, curious to see how much his face betrayed him.

“For your government?”

_Our government,_ he nearly corrected, pulling the gun from its holster without further thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Part Two” has already been written; this was originally the opening to a *really* long chapter, but I’ll be honest: I am a mean girl with a noted weakness for cliff-hangers.  
> I’ll leave these wounds to fester for a day or so before posting the next instalment because of who I am as a person or at least as a writer, but for now, let’s get to some notes:
> 
> Your Grace (familiar)/ Your Highness (formal) – forms of address, the details of which will be made clear when the unnamed figure eventually appears in the main narrative. 
> 
> Edinburgh - Poker Club; one of several clubs at the heart of the Scottish Enlightenment, formed with the purpose of establishing a Scottish militia. (Scotland was omitted form the Militia Act of 1757 and the Scottish Militia Bill of 1708 was vetoed.)
> 
> “I’ve not the funds to purchase the commission” – did I mention previously that from 1683-1871 officer commissions had to be purchased within the British Army? 
> 
> “exposure granted to me by Edinburgh’s population density”- in the 18. C. Edinburgh was so packed (until King George III fixed it) that it was not uncommon for people belonging to various social classes to be living within the same building (an aristocrat may own a few rooms on the second floor, a merchant may rent out the basement type of situation).
> 
> “It was the only time in his career that he stared at his target as he took aim, half hoping that he would be blinded by the spark.” – in the 18. C. it was widely believed that the flash of gunpowder was blinding and British troops were instructed not to take aim. (This is fun, you know who wrote about this and took measures to change this practice? Simcoe.)
> 
> I think that is it. 
> 
> I assure you that by the end of the next update we (you, dear reader, and I) will be on good terms again. Till then, thanks for reading, leaving your comments and kudos, and basically making my day by your mere presence (over 500 hits! How cool!)
> 
> Up Next; Bang, Boom, Bang


	15. Ask Me No More Questions, I’ll Tell You No More Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna presses, Hewlett bends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever to edit. A bunch of real life stuff happened. Sorry for making you wait an entire week for something I said I would have up in a day or two, this was never my intent.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Mild sexual / suggestive content.  
> Varied scattered references to mythology, weapons, warfare, injury, and the existence of prostitution.

_Law._

_Order._

_Authority._

Hewlett had resented his London based bosses since the day he was given the assignment. The commission itself was a dream, the realities in which he had to carry it out seemed his own tailored form of torcher. He was not regular army, he was not a leader of men. Thirty-four of his soldiers had perished under his tenure, half of Setauket’s permanent population had vanished, and although he had managed to carry out his work for the government thus far, it had come at an inconceivable cost to both his command and his conscience.

It was one thing to spy on one’s enemies, another entirely to deceive one’s friends.

Hewlett no longer knew where to divide them.

He felt the pistol in his hand - still at his side, still shaking with fear, doubt and anticipation.

If he shot Samuel Culper point blank in a private home-

_No, not Samuel Culper, Anna Strong._

Regardless of the ultimate success of the operation, that would be how he would be damned to remember the incident.

_Anna._

The gun felt heavy and his arm tired.

Hewlett felt the warm body of his enemy against his own. He felt he could collapse into it. He imagined what ancient battles must have been like; Men in phalanges thrust against each other with spear and shield, forced to see the look in their enemies’ eyes as they drew their final breath. Forced to repeat this action until the physical limitations on human endurance took their toll. He often wondered how long he would last under conditions that the advent of gunpowder had rendered obsolete. In this moment, it certainly seemed that he would not have stood much of a chance. Hewlett felt is finger shaking on the trigger, as he wonder, as he always did when handling a firearm, if he was indeed a coward. _What is more loathsome_ , he asked himself, _that I am holding a weapon in the first place or that I am hesitant to shoot? Did Oxford ruined my potential as a solider?_ Anna’s features were suddenly replaced by the young man’s in his last moments. The major shuttered. Had that been the last time he had had any conviction? Fifteen years ago the boy had been old enough to be Hewlett’s son, and, if he was not imagining things, he would have been Anna’s age now.

_That is, if had he not betrayed our king._

Hewlett hadn’t tried to offer the boy any chance at redemption.

He had simply taken aim.

With Anna it was different. He had given her every possible opportunity to repent. She had simply never taken him at his offer, even when she had been cajoled into cooperation. Hewlett steadied his hand. He was not to blame. She had brought this upon herself.

He opened his eyes only to find hers fixed on him. Him, and not, he noted, the weapon in his hand. Anna’s eyes weren’t pleading, they were pressing.

The Major couldn’t lift his arm anymore as he imagined multiple residua, each bleaker than the one that proceeded it.

He grimaced. This wasn’t a struggle between England and her colonies, a battle the righteous against the unjust. He wasn’t Perseus, and though she might well be Medusa, it was not solely her look turning him to stone. Hewlett was at war with himself, with his ideals, far more so than with the woman who sought to destroy all the he stood for.

 _Law. Order. Authority._ Hewlett sought to remind himself as his opponent unexpectedly dealt him what felt like a fatal blow.

Anna raised herself onto her toes, hugging the major tighter than she ever had before, her head perched on his left shoulder against his neck. Shocked, Hewlett dropped his service weapon and thoughtlessly kicked it to the side. Pain surged through his still-bandaged foot, causing his knee to give out slightly. Despite the clash and the sudden movement Anna remained stationary.

 _She is taking my pulse!_ He realized with alarm and a hint of respect as he gently pushed her away.

Anna stared at him with her mouth slightly open. Her lips seemed so soft, so moist, that Hewlett had to close his eyes in chastisement lest he consider them further. He wasn’t stone, he was glass, so very easily scratched or shattered. _She is unarmed, and yet favoured in every battle alone out of essence. How long,_ Hewlett wondered _, how long have I allowed myself to be so adversely affected by the sight of beauty? I, who felt myself beyond corruption._

“Your notes, the drafts I’ve read-” Anna started.

His heart stopped. It was over.

_Why does this feel like such a release?_

“I can’t comment,” Hewlett interjected quickly, adding, “I dare say we are both better off if you refrain from inquiring.”

Anna continued as if his motion had gone unheard.

“Major Andre doesn’t suspect Abe of being a patriot at all, does he?”

Hewlett did not, in fact, know. The letter he received simply stated that he had overstepped his position by sending an unauthorised agent into British-held territory. With the receipts from a number of Hewlett’s more conspicuous banking transactions, the intelligence Major had simply written >> _Let us discuss the grounds of your folly. <<_

Hewlett had realised upon receiving Andre’s response that no scenario the Chief Intelligence Officer imagined could possibly be worse than the truth. Anna, _Culper herself_ , whom he respected far more, didn’t seem to have fully grasped the scope his intentions.

“I fear I can’t say.” Hewlett responded, noting the irony of his honesty.

“I fear you already have.” Anna’s eyes darted to the pistol on the floor, calling his claims into dispute. “Major, please, can you not see that we have the same objective?”

“I promise you we most certainly do _not_ , Mrs. Strong.”

Anna didn’t reply. She needn’t have. The presence of the pistol filled the silence with the damning question he knew to be on her lips.

>> Why not shoot me then? <<

_I love you more than you know, I love you more than I dare._

He could hear his own heart beating as he watched her eyes on the weapon, perhaps wondering if he would pick it up. Perhaps wondering if she ought to.

_If I am to be defeated, why not let it be at your hands?_

Hewlett knotted his brow, exhaling through clenched teeth as he continued slowly, “For the sake of argument, let’s pretend that I have been informing -”

“Spying.” Anna corrected without inflection.

“ _Informing_ our government about various operations in the colonies. We will also assume solely for the sake of argument that when someone whose loyalty I have had reason to doubt came to me asking me to fund an assignment in territory held by the British I accepted his offer - partially with the hope that if he was not able to report useful information about the Sons of Liberty that he would at least be able to expose holes in our own defences.”

 _Partially with the hope that if I received information about an actual treasonous plot – as I thankfully did, in the end- it would be enough to end Andre’s obsession with your ring,_ Hewlett continued in his head, acknowledging how empty these words would sound to a woman he all but held at gunpoint moments before.

“You … no.” She seemed horror-stricken as she took a step back.

“I am not the rebel you’d have me be, Anna.” he said apologetically, at once aghast at his tone.

“Abe. Abe?” Anna raised her hands in confusion.

_Oh._

Hewlett took a deep breath. “Had I anticipated that Abe would be fool enough to get caught, that I would be in no position to secure his release, I would have never financed the mission.”

“What was Abe _actually_ doing then in York City?” Anna demanded.

_You have heard this story have you not? From Major Tallmadge and Robert Townsend and all of your other little friends._

Slightly embittered, Hewlett responded, “The majority of the time, I would think, he was likely imagining conversations he feared he might never have with his wife and son.”

_Much in the same way as my wholly unrealistic dreams of you, or us, from the confines of my cell._

She nodded slowly, taking another step away from him. Her speech was slow and careful as she asked, “Do you think … do you think Abe could have been spying for the rebels, while pretending to spy for you, while you were pretending to be gathering information about the Sons of Liberty but were in fact spying on the military which you serve?”

Hewlett noted that Anna didn’t quite seem to understand the question as she asked it.

“What do you think, Anna?”

“I think you ought to be honest with me, as I was with you.”

_Honest?_

“Were you? Were you completely honest, _Mr. Culper?_ ”

_Of course not, you are far better than that. What a team we would have made had different circumstances defined our ideals …_

Anna didn’t answer verbally. Her eyes shot downward as she sucked at her bottom lip.

“You understand then my predicament.” Hewlett paused as he debated his next move. He had little doubt that Anna would tell her co-conspirators about this conversation, about his diary, about his apparent weakness for her. From what he knew of Tallmadge and of Washington however, it seemed unlikely that they would move without proof. Whispers had a way of finding those who would listen, however, and Hewlett could count enough people who would be more than happy to see him toppled. “You have my words as an office and gentleman that I will continue to keep your secret, dare I be so bold to request the same mercy of you?”

“I don’t _know_ your secret, but you have never been at risk from me, Major Hewlett,” she spoke in a whisper. Looking again to the gun she continued, “I imagine that deep down you already know that.”

Hewlett glanced as well. It was half a pace away from where he stood. He cursed the condition of his foot for leaving the weapon so exposed, so present. He cursed the rebels who had kept him caged in the winter’s cold. He cursed the rebels who had turned brave, beautiful Anna Strong to their wicked cause. Hewlett bent down to pick it up, discomfort changing into pain as he knelt, twisting his foot in a way that had become unusual since he was forced to disfigure himself. He waited for the floor to creak, for Anna to move, but it was not forthcoming. How he coveted her conviction! Hewlett took the weapon to conceal it in his wardrobe, safe from her eyes, safe from his hand. Seeing the slot where his secrets once slept, he turned to Anna and stated, “I should need my book returned at once.”

“I think it is safer in my hands so long as you are holding mine.” came her candid reply.

Hewlett nodded. He had made notes of what he deemed important, notes he could perhaps turn into leverage if need be. Anna likely had as well, or she would at the first opportune moment. No exchange was perfect. Hewlett glance again at his pistol, now tucked away on the shelf, taking from the sight it the necessary confidence to let this round end in a draw. He closed the double-doored dresser, produced the Culper’s codebook from the breast pocket of his tailcoat and handed it to his foe with a slight nod of his head.

“Wait.” Anna said after she thanked him, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and raising her skirt to her ankles. Hewlett turned away, partially out of respect, partially to avoid her seeing his blush. He wondered if all rules of etiquette had been invented to men such as himself to shield them from embarrassment. His eyes fought to betray him as he listened to the rustle of her underskirts. Hewlett closed them to avoid an act of mutiny as he heard Anna replacing one notebook with another.

 _Hiding military secrets in the hems of clothing._ He smiled again at her genius, at how wonderfully she had managed to deceive him.

“May I ask you one question?” Anna asked.

Hewlett could hear her flipping through the book’s pages.

“Only on the condition that you do not anticipate an answer.”

He turned around to find her staring at one of his old sketches of her. He’d originally intended to send a drawing his mother as she had requested of him, but in dreaming of the woman he had known so very little about, Hewlett had allowed himself to be a bit more imaginative than any would deem appropriate.

“Yet I feel I am entitled to an answer, one answer, with respect to all that has transpired between us of late. Also,” she smiled at the sketch, “I am keeping this.” Anna began to tear out the page.

“Ah -”

“You’ve others, Major.”

“Whatever would you want with something like that?”

“What do you want with it?”

Hewlett blushed. He would almost have preferred her question to have been relevant to her cause.

“Is - is that what you wished to ask me?”

“No.” she replied as she gazed at his pathetic attempt to capture her beauty. Anna pressed down on the page as she removed it cleanly from the binding. With great care, she attempted to even out a crease she had created in the paper, commenting that she liked the figure’s eyes as she set the drawing aside. Anna then closed the book itself and held it out for Hewlett to take. When he approached, she grasped his wrist before he could revive it from her outstretched hand.

“Why do you love me?”

He was taken off-guard.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you love me, I deserve and demand to know why.”

“I misspoke.”

“Do you take me for a fool, Major Hewlett?”

“I – well, no. No I … ah …”

“Why, Major?” Her nails dug into his skin with such force Hewlett wondered if it was intentional as he fought to keep himself from wincing.

“Please Anna, we both know my words are better forgotten.”

“You are wrong.” Anna shook her head. “I love you, too. I love your decency and determination. I love your long winded explanations of things most would fail to question, much less seek to understand. I love the ways in which you challenge me, the regard you seem to hold me in. I love the way you look at me, even when discussing all that divides us. I love your face itself. I love your hesitance, your respect, nearly as much as I am coming to resent you for it. _I love you more than I hate your politics_. Now tell me, Major Hewlett, _why do you love me?_ ”

“I love that you make my deficits apparent. I love that you somehow see me for the strengths I long to project. I love your courage and your tenacity. I love the challenge you pose as much as I loathe the conflict you’ve created. I love that you are able to rise above all those who would see you fall. I love your ability to compromise without surrender. I love the kindness you show to those who deserve anything but. I love you brilliance and you passion. I love that the gleam in yours eyes when you ask a question matches that of when you have silenced me into submission. I love that you reaffirm my beliefs by calling them into dispute. I love that you hold fest to your own. I have never met anyone more worthy of respect.” Hewlett took the notebook Anna was still holding with his free hand as knelt to kiss the hand still clutching his wrist. He grip loosened as his lips lingered. He pressed her hand to his forehead for a moment as an indication of reverence before rising once more. “We can never be anything more to each other than we are right now. I hope you recognise that as I do. I love you, Anna, whether in spite of or due to your opposition of the crown I fear I can no longer say. I once thought you, your salvation, to be my destiny -”

“What, pray tell, changed your mind?”

“I wouldn’t have you renounce your beliefs solely on my behalf. Not anymore. Not now that fate, it would seem, has another plan for me. Forgive me my transgressions against you as well as my affections towards you and let us part as friends.”

Anna rose from the bedside. Hewlett bent slightly to hear her as she whispered, “In all the time you thought me your destiny did you ever think I wouldn’t figure you out?”

“Honestly, I assumed that if we ever got to this point you would no longer be a risk.”

“What point?” she gaped, forcing a small laugh. “Goodbye?”

“The point where there is in truth nothing left to say.”

 _How could I have ever imagined the words that might have existed between us?_ Hewlett thought back to the heartbreak he felt when Richard Woodhull told him that he had been unsuccessful in securing a divorce for the woman whom he at that point had known to be an enemy spy. Had he truly envisioned himself asking for her hand, bringing her back to England when the war had been won, introducing her to high-society, to the people who had profited from the conflict as the nation bleed? Had he allowed himself the comfortable presumption that he could make her happy in such a setting? He gazed at Anna and saw only her contention.

_Could I have ever been happy with the woman I once wished you to become?_

“You say you admire the strength of my convictions, and yet you ask that I allow you to leave in amity? How dare you, sir! You have my friendship, my love, and this in spite of all that you are and all that you lack. You would walk away from me now?”

_This exactly the reason I wish you had just let my words rest where they fell._

“I fear I must, Anna. I have no choice in the matter.”

“You always have a choice!”

 _Unfortunately mine was made long ago,_ he woefully thought repeating his mantra in his mind: _Law. Order. Authority._

“What I have, Mrs. Strong, are certain duties of vassalage-”

“Which I am sure include ordering my execution!”

Hewlett couldn’t tell if the room, or he alone, had be shaken by the angry vibrations of the sound of her voice. “Anna, do lower your voice, _please_.”

She crossed her arms as her glare deepened. “No, Major Hewlett. No, I don’t think I shall. You don’t get to accuse me of treason, destroy my confession, beg of me my assistance, imprison me without charge, tell me you love me, and tell me that you –and my best friend- have gotten yourselves in trouble with your superiors, and expect me to _quietly_ let go? No, not even you can possibly be that entitled. You are _not_ leaving. We are going to figure this out.”

“Anna, I am not asking your assistance in this -”

“No, nor am I’m offering. You can think this more an imposition, in much the vain that you originally offered friendship and protection. I cannot even fathom what reason you would have to think that these obligations were one sided. Major Hewlett, I love you more than you think.”

He felt her lips on his cheek and wondered if he had ever truly been happy before, knowing that he could never have contented himself with anyone less. Knowing that he may never be content again, his hand slipped around her small waist.

“Major Hewlett-” she started.

He felt awkward at her constant reference to his rank.

“Richard is fine, really.”

“Richard …” she repeated as if testing the name on her tongue. “Richard. Never ask me again about the Culper Ring and my role in it, and I will cease to ask exactly what you are doing here. I will trade information with you as I expect you to do with me when it is mutually beneficial. Believe me when I say to you that we can make this work.”

_In theory._

It occurred to the major for the first time since entering the tavern that he no longer wanted things to return to the way they had been. He didn’t want to feel like he was deceiving her, he didn’t want her to be deceived.

“If I am ever able to return from York City, I’ll actively try to undermine you in your role as Samuel Culper.”

“As I will likewise continue to combat the King’s oppression.”

Hewlett smiled in spite of himself. “Then there is only one condition, you’ll let me try to convince you otherwise.”

“ _Only_ if you agree to let your attempts be less of a lecture and more of a debate.” Anna insisted.

“I would truly love to listen to your defence of your stance. Though, I imagine your arguments would prove -”

Did she smile? Did he imagine it? Hewlett was suddenly conscious of his own wide grin.

“Can you not simply tell John Andre ‘no’?”

The dream ended.

“Not without raising his suspicions further. I’ve worked with many men of a similar mentality, I fear that his next move would be to send an agent to Setauket assuming of course that he hasn’t already. Anna, I cannot risk your exposure -”

“Wait, I appreciate the sentiment, but what exactly _are_ Andre’s suspicions? _Why_ is he suspicious?” Her dark eyes seemed to twinkle like the night’s sky. The major wished to confide in her his every secret – were not for the bitter irony that the only person who might possibly be able to understand him was the one whom sanity cautioned against.

“Forgive me, but did we not just agree not to discuss-”

“Then we shall pretend this is hypothetical. Richard, let me help, I want, nay need, you to return.”

Want was kind, need excessive. Anna had survived every blow he had dealt her. She would survive his departure from her life. Hewlett, quite in contrary, wondered if he could even subsist without the presence of the hard voice which so disagreed with Anna’s otherwise gentle pulchritude.

“I don’t want to leave.” He admitted. “Especially now, especially…” What was there to say? Anything he told her put them both in danger. Anything he kept silent was just as great of a risk. “Anna. This, it is - was, hypothetically of course, an operation which though successful gave room for question at a time when I’ve a renegade presumably hiding on the outskirts of town with enough knowledge to come to this insignificant outpost with the intent of extortion. I’ve to file a civil case against a demon and his acolytes,” he sighed. “I have considered simply writing him a threat but that alone would be no guarantee that he would stay away from you.” Hewlett shook his head. Of all of the forces he never though could corrupt him, there stood Anna. Beautiful, brilliant Anna. He felt his wide, taught mouth break into a grin as he laughed at the irony. “You, my only friend, my enemy. The gorgon I was sent to slay. The girl I feel destined to defend. Ah, if myth teaches us but one thing it is that man is weak and flawed.”

“No…no. I don’t pretend to be an expert, but I am quite sure that isn’t the lesson we are meant to take.” She sat down on the edge of his bed, beckoning him with slight wave to join her there. Hewlett complied, trying to conceal his nerves. He hadn’t had a woman on his bed since he received his new insignia, parting with a few pence to share someone’s warmth after a night of celebration.

“What were you saying about Captain Simcoe?”

_Simcoe? Can it be that she fears him so that the very mention of his name is enough to break her focus? Poor thing._

“I have begun preparations for a case against him, rather I-”

“No, about writing him.” She looked expectant. Hewlett didn’t understand what more there was to explain.

“I considered it, but without a restraining order in place-”

“You must!”

_Is she so quick to seek out the protection of another? For all of her claims!_

“Mrs. Strong, for all of my failings-”

“We need Simcoe.” She was insistent.

Hewlett’s envy became determination to talk her out of whatever she was planning nearly as quickly as it had appeared.

“My situation is desperate but yours needn’t be.” he pleaded.

Anna ignored him. “Send a letter explaining that I was attacked by his men. It will create a mistrust between him and his Rangers, weakening his position. He will come back to Setauket to confront you, but you won’t be here, allowing me to recruit his help in capturing Rogers.”

“Out of the question.” Hewlett responded with a firmness he had forgotten he possessed.

_Have you lost your very mind?_

Though he felt he had given very little room for further argument, Anna persisted, “You will have added reason to hurry back to me.”

Hewlett rubbed his temples. It had been a misjudgement to open himself up to her.

 _Can it be that I need Mr. Culper every bit as much as I want Mrs. Strong? Dearest Anna, has my love damaged you as much as it has me?_ Hewlett hoped so, at least to the extent that he could use the wound to caution against recklessness.

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

Anna nodded.

“Then I’ve reason enough to return without warranting the necessity of you putting yourself at risk.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. It was manipulative and cruel and he knew it. He wouldn’t return form York City, he couldn’t pursue her even if he did. He knew better than to speak of love, reminding them both of what would never materialize further between them.

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

“You know-”

“I do.” Anna interrupted before Richard had again the chance to attempt amending his averment. “I think it fair to say that I’ve known far longer than you have yourself.”

“Perhaps.”

“I know you, Richard Hewlett. Despite _everything_ we have seen each other through I am willing to trust you. All I am asking is that you trust me in return. If only just for the next few weeks. Yes, Andre may be under the impression that Abe is a spy, or double spy, or that you yourself are, yes, Robert Rogers of all people is blackmailing you and threatening my friends and my town. Yes, you have somehow managed to find yourself more personal enemies than the whole of the Continental Army. But I am not among them. And I have a plan.”

On the few occasions he had spoken to Anna with regards to strategy, she had never let him down.

“Alright, Mrs. Strong, you have the floor.”

Anna swallowed. He could tell she was at least as nervous as she was determined. He squeezed her hand gently in encouragement as he gave her a slight nod.

“Write to Simcoe telling him that you are taking legal action against the Queen’s Rangers. Don’t make it personal. His men have no great love for him and if he feels betrayed he will lash out. Jordan won’t leave York City without saying goodbye to Abigail. If you allow me to use my old tricks, I will get her to convince him to stay at her side. Simcoe’s positioned weakened, he will return to Setauket ready for a fight, and we will provide him with one, in the form of Robert Rogers.”

“How should-”

“Simcoe will seek me out at the tavern. When he does not find me there he will hear of my – forgive me, was it dysentery or scarlet fever? Which was you and which was Mary?” Hewlett blinked. “No matter “Anna continued, “he will force his way into Whitehall, presumably without his men, where he will be arrested on site, the signed warrant waiting for him. You’ll need to include Wakefield in this I imagine.”

_Was that a slight?_

“Continue.” Hewlett said coolly.

“I will visit him, making it seem clandestine, in whatever room you designate as a cell, explaining that Rogers is in the vicinity that you have had locked me in this awful house so that I may be protected by its walls whilst you fled to York City without me.”

“No. I won’t leave you alone with that devil.”

“You must.”

“Anna – I am not involving a civilian in a military conflict! You are asking me to create a possible hostage situation which I cannot control.”

“But which I can! Furthermore, Major, I am _hardly_ a civilian. I will express my gratitude at Simcoe’s return …” she thought aloud, perhaps reconsidering the manner in which she was selling her premise. “With Mary. We will weep about how our men abandoned us with Rogers on the loose and we will beg him to be our liberation. The magistrate will enter, the two of us will plead with him to free Captain Simcoe so that he might free Setauket form Rogers. Woodhull will act as if he is unwilling to move against your orders, whilst Mary and I cry at the loss of our last hope of salvation. Simcoe will come up with a plan of attack. He will use this to convince the judge to set him free, and either he will remove Rogers from the equation or Roger’s will remove him.”

It made sense. Simcoe longed for the chance to be seen as a hero nearly as much as Hewlett himself did. Simcoe, however, had the benefit of being an actual warrior. But what if he were to actually win? Where would that leave Anna, the Woodhulls, the town?

“Assuming Simcoe beats Rogers -” the major started.

“You will notify Andre and Clinton immediately and recommend him for a promotion. Be clear about your hand in the operation, as this might buy you some points as well.”

 _My hand? Leaving the girl I wish to court to plan and carry out a hazardous scheme whilst I was off facing an unrelated court martial?_ He looked at her skeptically.

“I don’t imagine that an officer who defeated one of the crown’s most notorious enemies would be stationed near a remote farming village.”

“No, I don’t imagine that would be appropriate.” he agreed.

“Simcoe will be sent far from here. Are the British not planning on making a push from the south?”

Hewlett had to laugh. “Don’t be so quick to reveal yourself, Mr. Culper.”

Anna returned his grin. And then, for a moment, it happened. The two shared a long deep look.

She seemed to be leaning in.

Worry saved him from drowning in her eyes. “What if Rogers should win this dual you suggest?”

“Then he will have revealed his location and you can coordinate an attack thusly.”

“From York City? To be clear.”

“Andre will see the situation the same way I do, let two enemies take care of each other. Should the other part of the plan fail he will have nothing to lose by letting you return to fight a battle he assumes you cannot win. And if you do, so much the better for him. But I should doubt it will come to that.”

“Meaning?”

“When Abe is fit you will travel at his request under the pretense that Abe is rebel and you have made a fatal error in judgement.”

“That is, well, rather ridiculous-”

“And yet it is the most plausible of all the given scenarios.”

“And the least.”

“Convince Andre otherwise from your position here. Let him meet Abe. Make him think that he has gone mad. Charm him. Charm him like you’ve charmed me.”

Hewlett took his hand from atop hers, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his palms.

“I cannot risk-”

“You have already risked everything. Either you come clean about what you know, damning me, perhaps Abe, and surely yourself in the process, or you fight back. It is that simple.”

 _If only that were the case._ What Anna didn’t understand was that his position was compromised regardless of what conclusions Andre had drawn about the man whom Hewlett had used to carry out his inquires in York City. It was sweet that she was trying to help, but it was a waste. He would not be able to convince her that this was goodbye, and perhaps that was for the best. However, he knew that he could not let this continue. Misplaced hope was the most merciless form of damnation.

“Could it be that you are underestimating Andre?”

“Could it be that you are underestimating _me_ , Major Hewlett? It might surprise you to learn this, but I have actually met the man.” Anna seemed to brag.

“Dare I to inquire -”

“If you don’t expect me to be forthcoming with answers.”

_Good girl._

He turned to face her. It happened again. That smile.

“Test it. Pretend to see this from that point of view, where Abe is a spy and you are a mere fool. Pretend it to me, to Abe, to the entire household. We will present you with the faults in these accusations, giving you in turn arguments which you can subtly suggest to Major Andre. Confuse him. Be stubborn, be steadfast. Be yourself. Everything else will fall into place.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“A version of that same plan has in essence worked for you before.” Anna seemed to be referring to herself.

“Indeed. Yet, even the suggestion of the possible existence of Setauket’s rebel activity might put you in Andre’s crosshairs.”

“If we can convince him that Abe is a rebel spy, he will be caught completely off guard upon meeting him. The Culper Ring won’t matter once it has been discredited.”

_Which would benefit you surely. But how can you not think of poor Abe? I cannot ask this of him._

“What if it backfires, what if Andre... No, I don’t like this.”

“Abe will go along with it. Trust me, he will. Have you ever seen him speak with his father? He has ‘wrongfully accused’ down to an art. He will be able to provide enough of a distraction for you to gather whatever you need to clear both of your names.”

“Spy on the spy master?” Hewlett clarified, his jaw gaping.

Anna bit her lip as she hesitantly added, “His name _is_ on your list, Major. From what I’ve heard from Abigail he has a weakness for the bottle. I don’t really feel like this is a breach of duty or a challenge to your skill.”

 _How much had she managed to uncover in such a short time?_ Hewlett’s boss had once written to him, explaining that it had taken four men days to decipher a single dispatch. _How much of this conversation is speculation? Perhaps I underestimate her still._

_Though she certainly seems to have enough faith in me._

“It is not that I disagree with you on either of those counts, but I could _never_ do that to Abe, much less dear Mary.”

“What would you have done if it turned out that Abe harbored patriot leanings as you’ve stated you once suspected?”

“I would have done my level best to dissuade him from that course.”

“And if that failed?”

_-As it did with you.-_

“I would have upheld the law.”

“You see? This isn’t beyond your moral-“

“Except that it is a lie!”

“ _In which we trade_. Write to your bosses in the Southern Department, explain to them our plan for the sake of security. You must hold enough sway…”

 _It could actually work._ He could get a form of immunity for Abe, but even if the winds were in his favor, there was still the matter of Andre discovering his actual role within the government, rendering continuation impossible. Meaning that he would be shipped back to England, and the garrison post would be open for purchase. If he went along with Anna’s plan, Simcoe would be in Setauket at the time his commission became open. The demon had the necessary expendable funds. After explaining all of his misgivings, Anna asked him “Do you wish to remain in Setauket?”

“I wish to remain with you.”

“Then you will figure it out. Once in York City, have Abe convince Andre that when he was unable to find an apprenticeship he offered his services to you as a spy in order to stay in the city while he continued to look for a job as a legal clerk. You were starting to wise up to his scheme which caused him to actually try his hand at spying. He was captured on his first attempt and to further save face gave you a report based on rumors he heard while imprisoned. After receiving Andre’s response you accused him of being a rebel. Convince him that it is a waste of time to pressure the matter further. Convince him of whatever you need to that you may return.”

“Do you want me to return that badly, Anna?”

“I want you.”

Hewlett leaned forward until he felt his lips press against hers. She grabbed him by his collar as their tongues met --

Reminding him of his uniform. Of his purpose. Of his countless breaches of duty.

Hewlett jolted back, horrified by his behavior. Anna was looking at him with a sting of pain and confusion he couldn’t overcome.

“Forgive me, Anna, I acted without-”

“ _Forgive yourself, Richard,_ ” she shot back. “I want you to kiss me, to hold me, to _mean it_ when you say you love me.   It was never about your uniform, your pay or position, you offered me your friendship at a time when I happened to have needed a friend. You treated me as an equal, so please afford me the same respect when your lips meet mine.”

Her hand remained on his shoulder near the nape of his neck. He shrugged it away, afraid that any other movement on his part would be advantage seeking.

“I respect you Anna. I am sorry that your experiences have shown you that desires must always be acted upon.”

“I am sorry that you find the very _idea_ of my affection so repulsive.”

“I am sorry that I have given you that impression, it is only-”

“It is _never_ ‘only’. We could construct an infinite list of obstacles but it would do nothing to change the fact.”

She was right. Hewlett had to concede that much. Logic played no role in love. Anna seemed to glow in the fading light. Anna, who had pulled herself onto level ground. In that moment, Hewlett resolved he would fight to remain beside her. Fight to continue their constant struggle with their conflicting ideals. He owed her, he realized, so very much.

Their lips met again when he pulled her into an embrace. She kissed him fiercely as her hands gravitated from his chin to his cheekbones, playing with the strands of dark hair that perpetually shown beneath his wig no matter how he adjusted it. Hewlett took his tongue from the inside of Anna’s cheek, kissing her hand as he brushed it away in order to remove the peruke before it became a casualty of their affections.

“You know, I always found your uniform to be the least attractive thing about you.” She said, ruffling his hair.

“Ah -” Hewlett smiled, his face scarcely an inch from hers “is that so?”

It was a challenge.

Anna took him up on it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … I will leave it there for now.  
> Few notes this week, none of them quite necessary for textual understanding but here you go: 
> 
> “Men in phalanges thrust against each other with spear and shield, forced to see the look in their enemies’ eyes as they drew their final breath”- I feel like I have been listening to the same episode of ‘Hardcore History’ at the gym for the past three weeks. There was probably some unconscious influence in this line. 10/10 would recommend. 
> 
> “Hewlett dropped his service weapon and thoughtlessly kicked it to the side.”- don’t do this kids. Seriously. 
> 
> “He pressed her hand to his forehead for a moment as an indication of reverence before rising once more.” – That is more a Middle Eastern thing but I have no idea what the Anglican equivalent gesture to show both intimacy and respect looks like (not for a lack of googling and asking awkward questions of my housemates). Ultimately though, this is how I saw the scene in my head, it didn’t feel out of place, so I went with it. 
> 
> “even if the winds were in his favour”- Messages were sent by ship. You knew that. 
> 
> “peruke” - This is actually really cool! The German word for wig is Perücke, and I am guessing the English “peruke” which describes the style of wig Hewlett wears is pronounced the same way. 
> 
> Speaking of German stuff, have I managed to hit every possible Stasi trope yet? Oh, no friends, I’ve barely gotten started.
> 
> But next week I may put the spy plot [read- the entire plot] on the backburner because I really want an Annlett sex scene to exist*.
> 
> Edit:* it did. As did a few additional chapters of this long abandoned fic. Having received no feedback, I ended up removing everything that must not have worked for anyone and this is where we will leave things. Cheers.


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